A Thousand Oceans
by SpyKate
Summary: Facing disciplinary action after their covert relationship is exposed, Sydney and Vaughn decide to go on the run and create a new life together... in ways they'd never imagined. *** COMPLETE *** Please R & R.
1. Conversation in a Hallway

Disclaimer: Nope - don't own a thing, except for the ideas for these little fanfics that are so deliciously fun to play around with.  
  
Summary: Vaughn and Syd decide to take a chance on each other and end up far away - both from the lives they once knew and the paths they once believed their lives would take. Romance/Angst - and a whole lotta surprises.  
  
** Please R & R ** I gain momentum and inspiration from any and all opinions.  
  
************  
  
Chapter One: Conversation in a Hallway  
  
"Never in my life have I wanted to be somewhere else more than I do right now," Sydney Bristow said, her voice low in the near empty corridor. Michael Vaughn, sitting on the wooden bench beside her, turned slightly to look into her eyes.  
  
"We could leave," He said, his tone light, as if the decision was as simple as just getting up and walking away. "We could call in old favors. We have friends who would help us."  
  
"To do what? Spend the rest of our lives in the former-spy underground? What kind of a life is that?" The flash of anger fueling Sydney's words and the spark in her dark eyes were not directed at Vaughn. Feelings of helplessness were storming her body and anger was her first, and most instinctive, response.  
  
Vaughn reached over to Sydney's lap where she clutched her purse strap tightly in both hands. Gently, he rested his palm on her left hand, curling his fingers around hers. She swallowed hard around the growing lump in her throat before looking up at him with wet eyes.  
  
Vaughn spoke, his voice tender. "It's the kind of life we can live together."  
  
Sydney's tense features softened into a smile as a tear slipped down her cheek. "That would be nice," She murmured, her voice just above a whisper. Her eyes started to drift from Vaughn's, and he knew he was starting to lose her. The more she thought about what she had to leave behind, the more likely she was to say no.  
  
"I'm serious, Sydney," Vaughn pressed his hand against hers, forcing her to meet his eyes again. "We can go right now. Just get up and walk -"  
  
"It's never that simple, Vaughn," Sydney interrupted him, pulling her hand from his and agitatedly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "They would come after us. We're being called in there today for a disciplinary hearing. They won't just let it go."  
  
"They'd have to if they couldn't find us," Vaughn reasoned, struggling to keep his tone even. He wanted to plead with her, but Sydney didn't respond well to begging. It only made her more steadfast.  
  
"And what about SD-6?" Sydney questioned, her eyebrows knit with worry. "If I just disappeared, they'd come after me. The Alliance would assume the worst and send assassins to finish me, and then you. They certainly won't let this go."  
  
"Again, I have to point out that they would have to if they couldn't find us," Vaughn finally let his irritation show, his deep green eyes flashing. "We're not new at this, Syd. We're not beginners. We've been trained by the CIA and we have friends. We can disappear."  
  
Sydney saw for the first time that Vaughn was dead serious. Up to that point, a part of her had believed that he was just doing what they always did: dreaming that things were different. He was actually suggesting that they make things different, and that they do it now.  
  
Sydney lowered her head until her chin was almost resting on her chest. She didn't know if she felt the need to bow because the weight of the situation or because she was trying to listen to her heart, waiting for some answer to come to her that would solve everything, or nothing.  
  
"Syd?" Vaughn leaned into her, concerned. She opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and raised her head to look at him.  
  
"Maybe the hearing won't be that bad," She said, betraying herself even as she spoke the words. She knew what her heart had said. She knew what Vaughn's heart was telling him. But she ignored them both and erred lamely on the side of caution.  
  
Vaughn immediately withdrew from her, leaning back into the bench and staring straight ahead. "Things are complicated, I know," He said. He didn't want her to think he was angry with her. He wasn't. His only concern was with the depth of her feelings for him. "It's easier for me to walk away from this life than for you. I realize you have a life here that means something to you."  
  
"It's not my life," Sydney interjected, wiping away another tear. "It's the people in it. Especially the people who I've only recently come to know." She inhaled a deep, shaky breath that sounded like a small sob. Vaughn wanted badly to embrace her, but even holding her hand had posed a risk for them. He simply scooted closer to her until his shoulder was nestled comfortably against hers.  
  
Vaughn spoke quietly, not wishing to upset her more. "Your mother," He said.  
  
Sydney only nodded, her eyes locked on the bland linoleum floor. She could not, dared not, meet his eyes; she knew she would break down. She knew she would not be able to control the torrent of emotions her brave, stoic front was trying so hard to hold back.  
  
As Vaughn shifted silently beside her, Sydney tried not to feel his presence so acutely. It was difficult, if not impossible, not to notice the warmth of his arm next to hers, not to hear his steady breathing, not to inhale the scent of him, a mix of woodsy cologne and fresh laundry detergent. Sydney's heart beat louder with each detail she noted and memorized; she was sure that Vaughn could hear it thundering inside her ribcage in the narrow, deserted hallway.  
  
She wondered if he could also hear the words it was repeating to her, over and over, with each steady beat: Go now. Go now. Go now.  
  
Sydney closed her eyes for another moment to steady her emotions before turning to face Vaughn. He faced her with a questioning look, his eyes full of concern.  
  
Sydney cleared her throat before she spoke. "I think we should wait it out," She said, pausing to make sure her heart kept beating. She had betrayed it with her words and hoped it wouldn't betray her in turn.  
  
Vaughn dropped his eyes, his fear realized. He knew, somehow, that this was the decision Sydney would make. "Okay," He said, nodding. He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, then he reached out and took Sydney's hand.  
  
"Vaughn," She protested, looking up at the heavy wooden double doors across the hall from where they were sitting.  
  
"Listen to me," Vaughn implored her, waiting to speak again until her eyes were fixed on his face. "The offer still stands, Syd. If you ever change your mind, you don't even have to wonder. I'm ready to go whenever, IF ever you say the word."  
  
Sydney wanted to kiss Vaughn so badly at that moment that her lips were tingling. Instead of giving in to impulse, she simply nodded and carefully withdrew her hand.  
  
"Thank you, Vaughn. I'll remember that," She didn't mean it to sound as patronizing as it did. When Vaughn responded by falling back against the bench and looking off down the hallway, Sydney sighed. She was about to apologize and try to explain when the doors across from them opened forcefully, echoing sharply in the corridor.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn both snapped to attention, sitting up as straight as they could, their faces turned expectantly to the sharply dressed, middle-aged CIA agent who stood in the open doorway. Neither Sydney nor Vaughn had met him before and didn't know what to expect from him. It turned out he was just the messenger.  
  
"Agent Bristow, the committee is ready for you." The agent stepped to the side and motioned towards the meeting room, his tone deep and serious.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn exchanged surprised glances. They had been under the impression they would be seen together. However, they knew better than to argue with the Intelligence Oversight Committee, especially since it was staffed by members of the U.S. Congress.  
  
As Sydney rose from the bench in the hallway, she remembered words Will Tippin had spoken to her the night before when she had told him about the hearing.  
  
"This is a big, fat, huge deal," He had said, his eyes as wide as Sydney had ever seen them. Sydney couldn't help but agree as she left Vaughn's side and walked towards the agent at the door. She took a deep breath and tried to appear as composed and confident as possible, but her insides were churning more violently with each step she took. The urge to look back at Vaughn for reassurance was nearly overwhelming, but somehow Sydney made it into that room and tried to not wince as the doors closed loudly behind her.  
  
Sitting on the hard wooden bench alone, Vaughn lowered his eyes from the doors and stared hard at the non-descript linoleum floor. Physically, he was sitting there in the empty hallway. Mentally, he was inside the room, sitting next to her and meeting their fate together. Emotionally, he was already gone - with Sydney safe and secure by his side. 


	2. So It Begins

Chapter Two: So It Begins  
  
The sounds of throats clearing, papers rustling and water glasses clinking were overwhelming Sydney Bristow as she sat at the long wooden table, her hands folded demurely in front of her, her expression stoic. She licked her lips self-consciously, waiting as the committee chairman, Senator Jack Marchard, shuffled through a stack of documents on the table before him. This had been going on for nearly five minutes and as each second ticked by, the beads of sweat along Sydney's spine multiplied in number.  
  
"Agent Bristow," the Senator finally spoke, never raising his eyes from the pages before him. "At what point during your professional relationship with Agent Vaughn did it start to become more intimate in nature?"  
  
Sydney swallowed hard and leaned towards the microphone on the table before her. She paused to collect her thoughts before answering.  
  
"Senator Marchard, if you don't mind, would you please explain what you mean by "intimate"?" She met his eyes as he glanced up, surprised by her request.  
  
"I simply mean, Ms. Bristow, when did the relationship become sexual?"  
  
Every sound and movement in the room came to a dead stop. It may have been Sydney's imagination, but she could swear that the committee members were even holding their breath, waiting for her answer. She nervously glanced around the room. It seemed that a few of the Senators were actually on the edge of their seats.  
  
Sydney's brow furrowed. "Senator, forgive me, but I must ask how this has any bearing on the issue at hand."  
  
"This is the issue at hand," the Senator thundered, his eyes burning holes into Sydney as she inched back in her chair. She could understand how this hearing could make her fearful, but she wasn't going to forgive herself if she gave into it and let them push her around.  
  
"Forgive me once again, Senator Marchard, but I believe the issue at hand is how the nature of my relationship with Agent Vaughn jeopardized an intelligence gathering mission and nearly cost the life of a fellow agent." Sydney felt the weight of the accusations as she laid them all out, her voice never wavering. The strength she found now was out of a deep desire to keep as much as she could about her relationship with Vaughn as private as possible.  
  
"And?" Senator Marchard prompted. "Isn't that what I was asking you a moment ago?" He was losing patience with her, something Sydney did not want.  
  
"No, sir, I believe you were asking me to tell you when Agent Vaughn and I were physically intimate for the first time," She felt herself blush slightly as the words left her mouth. The memory of that night was still fresh and she forced herself to compartmentalize it at that very moment so she could stay true to her intentions. "I respectfully request, Senator, that the record reflect that Agent Vaughn and I are physically intimate and had been at the time of the incident. Any details beyond that point, I believe, are superfluous."  
  
A general murmur circulated the cramped, airless room. Many of the committee members conferred amongst themselves, comparing notes and quietly debating the point. Senator Marchard was rapidly scribbling on a page of his notes, his face reddened with what Sydney could only guess was anger. She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the thought that perhaps the Senator had been hoping for lurid details.  
  
A voice came from the far corner of the room. "I'll stipulate to that, Senator." It was Senator Wendy Schulman, one of only two women on the committee. Sydney fought the urge to flash her a smile.  
  
"I'll second that," Senator William Crohn said from his seat in the third row.  
  
Senator Marchard was not happy, but he nodded as he sighed loudly. "Then we're agreed," He said. "But I'd like to know, Agent Bristow, if you can give us an approximation. Was it six weeks into your working relationship? Six months?"  
  
Sydney considered this for a moment. "About sixteen months," She replied. "Maybe a week or two longer. I'm not absolutely certain."  
  
More papers shuffling, more throats clearing, more water glasses clinking. Sydney glanced at her watch. They'd been at it for the better part of three hours. Most of the questions had centered on what Sydney and Vaughn accomplished through their work together, what her role was with the CIA and with SD-6, and what Sydney felt Vaughn's role was in regard to her. Sydney was ready to move on.  
  
Near her on the table sat a glass and a pitcher of water. Sydney carefully poured some for herself and was dismayed, upon first swallow, to find that the water was tepid. She drank more anyway, her body in need of hydration.  
  
Senator Marchard cleared his throat, signaling he was ready to begin another round of questions. He leaned forward, his eyes on Sydney's face.  
  
"Agent Bristow, I'd like now to concentrate on the night in question. I'm going to ask you to detail it from beginning to end, starting with the day at SD-6 when you received your mission and taking us through the briefing of the counter-mission with Agent Vaughn." The Senator glanced back at some papers before him and then looked at his pocket watch. He frowned slightly. "I'd like to meet with Agent Vaughn at some point today, but I'd also like to make sure all the facts as you perceive them are entered into the record. So please, Ms. Bristow, take your time. Do you have any questions before you begin?"  
  
Sydney glanced around the room at the faces that were turned her way, their eyes searching her face, their expression expectant. She slowly looked back at Senator Marchard and shook her head.  
  
"No, Senator. No questions," Sydney replied, her voice quiet but firm.  
  
"Good," Senator Marchard looked back over his shoulder at his fellow committee members. "Then let's begin, shall we? Go ahead, Ms. Bristow."  
  
Sydney folded her hands and placed them on the table before her. Yes, she said to herself. Let it all begin. A strength she didn't know she had filled her suddenly and she squared her shoulders, smiling inwardly. I've never been more ready. 


	3. Underneath a Silver Moon

Chapter Three: Underneath a Silver Moon  
  
With the Intelligence Oversight Committee's full attention, Sydney Bristow settled into her chair and began to tell the story of the mission that had started so right but had ended up so unbelievably wrong.  
  
In her mind's eye, Sydney saw the day from beginning to end, every detail in sharp focus and every bad omen caught in the harsh spotlight of hindsight. And to think it had all started over a cup of coffee with Marshall Flinkman.  
  
"Oh, hold still. You have an eyelash on your cheek." Sydney grimaced and spit the small, thin device into her hand. It was about the size and shape of a cough drop and made of clear, unbreakable plastic. She studied it for a moment and looked up at Marshall, who was sipping coffee from a ceramic mug. "Damn, Marshall. I'm fine until the "on your cheek" part. Then my tongue comes up to hit the roof of my mouth."  
  
Marshall thought for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Do you have to say that part?" He questioned, shrugging. "Could you just leave it at "eyelash", do you think?"  
  
Sydney set down her own mug of steaming java and looked once more at the device. She slid it back into her mouth and cradled it on her tongue. Sydney moved a foot or so closer to Marshall and smiled coyly. His eyes widened, as though he were a deer caught in headlights.  
  
"Oh, hold still. You have an eyelash," Sydney repeated, this time leaning into Marshall, her face mere centimeters from his own. He held his breath, suddenly aware of the perfume Sydney wore, and even more aware that she had rested her hands on his shoulders, her touch tender but firm.  
  
As if scattering the seeds of a dandelion, Sydney blew gently on Marshall's cheek. His knees started to feel weak and he nearly lost the grip on his cup of coffee.  
  
Sydney pulled back suddenly and once more spit the device into her hand. "It worked, Marshall. Thanks," She smiled at him, her dimples sending his spirit into orbit. He fell all over himself, as usual.  
  
"Oh, no, thank you, Syd, cuz you know - I've been trying to develop this for a while. I mean, I've had the idea for a long time to hide a sleep agent in a mouth capsule that can be innocently sprayed into the face of some guy or something. But I never had a chance to use it, but since you've got to flirt with this guy, I thought, you know -" Marshall paused only to take a deep breath. "And your flirting skills are, you know, top notch, Syd. I actually believed I had an eyelash on my cheek or something. I just, well, what's that perfume you're wearing? Cuz it's just amazing, I mean, it's really something."  
  
During this, Sydney had picked up her coffee and was holding the cup before her mouth, trying to hide her laughter. Marshall reminded her of the computer geeks in high school who would practically walk into walls if a pretty girl happened to look their way. He was cute, in his own way, and Sydney did enjoy his company.  
  
"It's a lavender body mist," Sydney replied, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing outright as Marshall's eyes widened.  
  
"B-body mist?" He echoed, his voice distant. "Oh, wow."  
  
Before Sydney could comment further, Dixon appeared in the doorway of Marshall's tech room, his expression serious. "Syd," He said, waiting until she'd turned to face him before he continued. "Our flight leaves in two hours. I'd like to review the plan once more before we leave."  
  
"I'll be right there, Dixon," Sydney nodded. Satisfied, Dixon ducked back into the hallway and Sydney once more turned to face Marshall. "Thanks again, Marshall. And I'll remember what you told me about what not to do as soon as the sleep agent is released." She turned and started for the door.  
  
"Oh, right." Marshall smiled, raising his coffee cup to her. "Uhm, what was that, again?" He still hadn't recovered from imagining Sydney's body mist.  
  
Sydney smiled. "Inhale," She replied over her shoulder as she walked out the door. When she was gone, Marshall dropped into the nearest chair and concentrated on doing just that.  
  
Less than an hour later, Sydney was at the warehouse. She was pacing as Vaughn stood and silently read the SD-6 dossier regarding her newest mission. Sydney was attempting to keep her mind in the game, but being so close to Vaughn was a temptation she lacked the strength resist. They'd already blurred the lines; she hated pretending they were once again in sharp focus.  
  
"This is what we'd anticipated," Vaughn said suddenly, drawing Sydney out of the deep well of her thoughts. "The device Sloane wants is the same one we'd been tipped off about. He was just faster than we were at tracking it."  
  
"If Sloane gets his hands on that transmitter, he'll be able to reprogram the Estess satellite, essentially allowing The Alliance access to unimaginable methods of communication." Sydney stopped pacing and slid her hands in her pockets. Her fingers were trembling.  
  
Vaughn raised his eyes from the dossier only briefly, long enough to scan Sydney's face. When she met his eyes, he looked away.  
  
"Tell me again how you're going to intercept the device," Vaughn requested, handing the dossier back to Sydney and taking a seat on the bench. She clutched the folder to herself, exhaling deeply.  
  
"The man in the photos," She tapped her fingers against the dossier. "His name is Vincent Laughlin. He's a courier for Chouinard, the creator of this device. Laughlin is supposed to make the exchange with a courier for Sector Securities, the London based faction of the terrorist network Al-Ahed. Laughlin has a deep love for reading, it turns out, and spends at least two hours every afternoon at The London Library in St. James Square. It's an independent subscription library, but Dixon and I will have the necessary identification to get in." Sydney continued as she began to pace once again. "Laughlin is a history buff. The good news is that the history section is rather private. Laughlin will go there and read among the stacks, offering me a chance to render him unconscious and steal the device without being detected."  
  
"And what will Dixon be doing?" Vaughn prompted, slipping out of his suit coat before folding it over his arm and laying it on the bench. The temperature in the warehouse seemed unusually high that day. He didn't stop to entertain the thought that perhaps it wasn't the warehouse that was warm.  
  
"I'll be planting mini-cameras in key areas as I make my way through the library," Sydney replied. "Dixon will be hidden in the reference room-"  
  
"The reference room?" Vaughn interjected suddenly, his eyes locking on Sydney's. She felt the heat from his gaze and sighed audibly.  
  
"Yeah," She nodded. The mention had not gone unnoticed by either of them, and Sydney's mind wandered in search of the reason.  
  
The pretending had ended three weeks before; their failed attempts to remain professional had finally led them to admit their true feelings. It had come about at the warehouse, when Vaughn had suddenly grabbed Sydney's arms and pulled her to him, his embrace all at once engulfing and sheltering her. She didn't struggle, and when Vaughn whispered to her that if she truly wanted to say no, he'd let her go and never mention it again, she had remained completely silent. Her only response was to reach up, slide her hand to the back of his head and bring his waiting lips to hers.  
  
From that moment, they had been planning a way to be together, privately, completely. One week later they had gotten their chance. Vaughn called in sick to work; Sydney went to the UCLA library to work on her thesis. She knew the reference room had a back exit that was not monitored by security cameras. She told Vaughn when and where to park; she appeared through a light rain at his car window. They took off, Sydney huddled in the back seat of Vaughn's car. Before climbing out to follow Vaughn into his apartment, Sydney had pulled on a short blond wig and slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses. It was unlikely they were being watched, but they knew from experience that there was no such thing as being too careful.  
  
Inside the apartment, they pretended to be interested in small talk. Vaughn poured them some wine and Sydney commented on his sparse décor and wide collection of DVDs. But suddenly, as lightning flashed outside and their hearts thundered inside their chests, Vaughn set down the wine glasses and pulled Sydney into his arms.  
  
"Syd," He breathed, his lips pressed to her silken hair. "Let's not pretend anymore."  
  
"Okay," Sydney nodded, her body immediately responding to his touch, her every nerve alive and tingling. She allowed him to take her hand and lead her into his bedroom. When she caught sight of the bed and she knew without a doubt what was about to happen, her emotions overwhelmed her and tears spilled, unrestrained, down her flushed cheeks.  
  
Vaughn turned to Sydney and inhaled sharply upon seeing her tears. "Syd," He put his hands to her cheeks, wiping them clean. "What?"  
  
"You've just become Michael to me," Sydney spoke his first name for the first time with a force of emotion that nearly knocked Vaughn off of his feet. He smiled as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her close, resting his cheek against her belly, feeling the warmth of her body as she began to run her fingers through his hair.  
  
No more words were spoken, as none were adequate enough to speak the language only their bodies knew. It was everything they had hoped for and far beyond anything they had expected. Hours passed undetected and neither one of them became aware of the time again until the clouds had cleared and a full, silver moon shown through the partially open blinds in Vaughn's bedroom.  
  
Now, two weeks later, as they sat together in the warehouse, the electricity that passed between them was hard to ignore. Both of them revisited the memories of that day as often as possible, and both of them longed for the time when they could re-create it. It was a near impossible task.  
  
"So," Sydney finally spoke again after what seemed like a year of silence. "I'll render Laughlin unconscious and steal the device. Then Dixon and I will exit and head to Heathrow for the trip home."  
  
"Good," Vaughn cleared his throat and his mind, getting back to the task at hand. "I'll meet you there with Agent Gelman, who will download the data from the device onto the CIA's hard drive before implanting a virus that will render the device unusable. You'll have to hang out with us for a minimum of an hour, no more."  
  
"That's not a problem," Sydney assured him. She thought for a moment, then asked, "How well do you know Agent Gelman?"  
  
"I've worked with him before. Why?" Vaughn loosened his tie. He watched as Sydney walked over to the bench and took a seat next to him, pushing his suit coat to the side.  
  
"Would he mention it to anyone if you and I went to get dinner together?" She smiled coyly, breaking the tension that had surrounded them moments ago. It was strange for them, now, to be together and be so professional after the rules had been so blatantly broken.  
  
Vaughn smiled and looked down at his hands, folding them casually in his lap. "Are you flirting with me, Agent Bristow?"  
  
Sydney grinned. "Only if you're flirting back, Agent Vaughn," She said, scooting even closer to him. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.  
  
"I'd like to do more than that," He told her, his voice dropping as their faces drew close. They kissed, sweetly, tenderly, longingly. When they parted, they were both out of breath. "I want to be with you again, Syd," Vaughn breathed, his lips inches from her ear.  
  
"I know," Sydney whispered. "I want that, too."  
  
Several quiet moments passed as they kissed again, Vaughn's hands on Sydney's face, her hands clutching his shirt, the white oxford material between her fingers. She tried to memorize these moments exactly so that when she was alone later, she could disappear within the memory and not feel so broken about being away from him.  
  
Vaughn broke the embrace suddenly, grasping Sydney's hands, holding them until she looked into his eyes. They bore traces of pain and longing and something else that Sydney couldn't quite identify.  
  
"I want you to know, Sydney," Vaughn struggled with the words, hoping they would come out just right. "This isn't about sex. Not at all. This isn't just - well, I don't want to be with you only for that reason," He explained. Sydney's eyes never left his face as he continued. "I have deep feelings for you, Syd. I hope you know that."  
  
"I do," Sydney said quickly. "And I have those feelings for you, too." She added, squeezing his hands. "I even think that -" Sydney was rudely interrupted by her cell phone. It rang sharply, causing them both to jump at least a foot apart from one another. Sydney grabbed the phone from her pocket and answered it. After a short conversation, she hung up and turned back to Vaughn. "Dixon," She explained. "I've got to go."  
  
Vaughn rose to his feet as Sydney did, picking up the dossier. She turned to him, her lips curved into a bittersweet smile.  
  
"I'll see you in London," She said, her eyes giving away the fact that she did not want to leave.  
  
"Until then," Vaughn stepped close to her and placed a gentle kiss on her waiting lips, pausing to rest his forehead against hers when their mouths parted. "Stay safe," He said, his voice barely audible.  
  
Sydney couldn't speak as tears burned the back of her eyes. She simply squeezed Vaughn's arm and walked away, daring not to look back. She was afraid that if she did, she would not be able to leave. It was hard enough as it was. Her whole body trembled with the realization of what would have happened if Dixon had not called. She was going to put her heart on the line and tell Vaughn she loved him. Every cell in her body ached for it while all the voices in her head screamed at her not to. The last time she had loved someone this much, he had ended up dead.  
  
Sydney made it to her car and managed to slip into the passenger seat before she burst into tears, a sob escaping her throat. She laid her head on the steering wheel and allowed herself to cry for a moment before straightening and sliding the key into the ignition. It was then that she caught sight of the silver moon hanging in the night sky and she slipped back into memory, finding a smile and the strength to start the car and drive away.  
  
Sitting before the committee in the uncomfortable wooden chair, Sydney paused, lost in thought. She was unaware for the moment of the faces fixed upon her, their attention rapt. It wasn't until Senator Marchard spoke that Sydney fully remembered where she was.  
  
"Uh, Ms. Bristow," He said, his voice gruff but not without warmth. "What happened next? After you told Agent Vaughn that Dixon would be monitoring the mini-cameras?"  
  
Sydney took a sip of water. "Agent Vaughn instructed me when and where at Heathrow I would meet Agent Gelman to have the device copied for the CIA." She explained. "Then we parted. I went home, packed lightly, and headed for the airport."  
  
Sydney sat back in her chair and watched as the Senators made note of her words.  
  
"That was in, then? At the warehouse," Senator Marchard said.  
  
"Yes," Sydney nodded in reply. "That's all." She smiled inwardly, knowing full well that that was not all. But it was all she was willing to tell. The rest was for her alone, for those quiet moments when she just wanted to disappear.  
  
****** A/N: Thanks to all who have read & reviewed so far. I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. There is more to come - I promise. ( 


	4. Falling is Like This

Chapter Four: Falling is Like This  
  
After a short recess, during which Sydney Bristow was dismayed to find the hallway deserted, the meeting reconvened with Senator Marchard urging Sydney to continue the story. She picked it up at the point where she and Dixon gained entry to the library, and as she told it, her mind was concentrating on the details while her heart wondered about the empty bench in the corridor.  
  
Sydney had memorized the layout of the library from photographs in the dossier. She stealthily moved among the rows of books, pausing at key points to casually reach up, pull a book from a shelf, peruse it for a moment, and then return it to its place. No one observing this could possibly know that when those books were replaced, they bore tiny, pinpoint surveillance cameras.  
  
"Great positioning, Syd," Dixon's calm voice sounded in the earpiece she wore hidden by her long, curly auburn wig. "Keep up the good work."  
  
Sydney smiled privately and continued to move casually among the stacks. She blended in perfectly in a short pleated navy skirt and a white button- down blouse. Small, dark tortoiseshell framed eyeglasses were perched on her nose and she took care every once in a while to push them up, trying to appear like the average studious library patron. She stopped at one point and shifted her backpack from one shoulder to the other before reaching up to put yet another mini-camera into place.  
  
"I can see him now," Dixon said almost immediately. "He's two rows behind you, to the left, and he's alone."  
  
Sydney grasped a small silver heart that hung on a chain around her neck and pretended to play with it absently as she scanned a bookshelf in front of her. Bringing the charm near her mouth, she spoke into it as quietly as possible.  
  
"I'm moving in," She said, taking a cursory glance around her in all directions. "Going radio silent."  
  
"Copy that." Dixon replied just before Sydney began moving slowly to her left, her eyes expertly scanning the area for interference.  
  
Rounding the corner of a bookshelf, Sydney covertly reached into her pocket, withdrew Marshall's specially designed capsule and slipped it into her mouth. She glanced up toward the far end of the row of books and spotted her target. Laughlin was leaning back against the stack, a book open before him. He seemed completely involved in the reading and didn't even notice as Sydney approached.  
  
Pushing her glasses up on her nose, Sydney came within a foot of Laughlin and pretended to be searching for something on the shelf beside him. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him glance up at her and stare for a moment. She took that opportunity to make eye contact, and to her delight, he smiled. She smiled back as warmly as possible, and then -  
  
"Oh, hold still," She said, the capsule cradled snugly on her tongue. "You have an eyelash." And just as she had done with Marshall, she leaned into Laughlin and blew into his face, depressing the capsule against the roof of her mouth.  
  
In no less than three seconds, Laughlin's eyes rolled back and his legs gave out. Sydney caught him and lowered him to the floor, taking care not to breathe in until the sleeping agent had dissipated.  
  
Sydney grabbed the pendant at her neck and spoke into it after spitting the capsule out and tucking it back into her pocket. "Dixon," She said hurriedly. "I'm getting the device now."  
  
"You're still clear, Syd," Dixon assured her. "No one else in sight."  
  
The device was in the inside front pocket of Laughlin's jacket. Sydney located it right away and shoved it into her backpack as she darted around the end of the stack and started strolling as calmly as possible for the exit to the stairwell.  
  
"Target acquired," Sydney spoke once again into the silver heart. "I'll see you at home."  
  
Dixon couldn't help but let out a delighted chuckle. "Have a safe flight, Syd," He admonished warmly. "See you back in LA." And with that, they made their hasty, separate exits and headed to the airport.  
  
All the way to the airport, in the back of the taxi, Sydney thought about Vaughn. Reconstructing it in her mind from countless memorized images, she tried to imagine the smile he would flash upon seeing her again. By the time the driver pulled the cab to a stop in front of Heathrow, Sydney was so desperate to see Vaughn that she nearly forgot to pay for the ride. After dropping a handful of British pound notes into the driver's hand, she hurriedly climbed out of the car and dashed for the entrance, doing her best to meld into the bustling throng of travelers around her.  
  
Sydney had instructions to go to a certain ticket agent at a certain airline carrier and purchase a ticket. Once she had done this, the ticket agent radioed a second undercover agent that Sydney was in the airport. Outfitted in a pair of gray coveralls marked "maintenance" and unassumingly painting a wall, the second agent kept his eyes open for Sydney or trouble, whichever crossed his path first.  
  
While walking purposefully through the concourse, Sydney opened the ticket folder in her hands and read the instructions printed there; she recognized Vaughn's small, tight handwriting and her pulse quickened as she picked up her pace. It wasn't long before the baggage claim offices came into view and Sydney spotted a maintenance man on a stepladder, roller brush in hand. She checked the instructions once more, shoved the ticket into her backpack and took a right into a small corridor just past the wall where the maintenance man was working. Behind her, the agent on the stepladder spoke quietly into a hidden microphone while continuing to work, the paint roller turning a white wall blue.  
  
There was an unmarked door at the end of the hallway, and just as Sydney reached it, it opened and Vaughn stepped out, furtively glancing in the direction from which Sydney had just come.  
  
"It's clear," Sydney told him, her heart skipping as she looked at his face. She wanted badly for him to meet her eyes. When he finally did, the smile she had pictured emerged and they both audibly sighed.  
  
"I'm glad you're okay," Vaughn said as he held the door open for Sydney to enter the makeshift tech center. It was obvious that it was previously a storage area; old, discarded baggage was stacked along the walls, some of it covered in what appeared to be years of accumulated dust.  
  
"I'm fine," Sydney said, brushing strands of the auburn wig from her shoulder. She looked to the side and noticed another agent in the room, busily working at a laptop computer. He was about Vaughn's age and serious looking in a shirt and tie, his gold-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose as he typed. Pausing once to push them up, he glanced up and immediately broke into a smile.  
  
Getting to his feet, he extended a hand to shake. "You must be the celebrated Sydney Bristow," He effused, shaking her hand heartily.  
  
Sydney was surprised by his enthusiasm. "I guess so," She responded carefully.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Agent Zachary Gelman," Gelman released her hand and nodded. "Agent Vaughn here was just singing your praises." Sydney shot a guarded look at Vaughn just before Gelman continued. "The work you've done to dismantle SD-6. It's truly amazing."  
  
Sydney instantly felt foolish. She knew Vaughn would never tell anyone about their relationship. Her adrenaline was still rushing after executing the mission and meeting someone new had put her on edge. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax.   
  
"Thank you," Sydney smiled at Gelman as he sat back down at the computer. "Agent Vaughn had done some of that work, too."  
  
"I hear you're quite a team," Gelman agreed, grinning as he pushed his glasses up once more. "Now, Agent Bristow, I believe you have something I need."  
  
Sydney set her brown leather backpack on the table and unbuckled the side pocket before reaching inside. Carefully, she withdrew the coveted device, cradling it in her palm. It was about the size of a make-up compact and looked like nothing more special than a bundle of red and blue wires encased in plastic.  
  
"It doesn't look like much," Vaughn observed, echoing their thoughts.  
  
"That's the beauty of it," Gelman carefully lifted it from Sydney's hand and set it on the tabletop. "The wires are secondary, really. The brains of this piece are in a microchip hidden in the center. I've seen the schematics on this device and even studied a very early prototype. But this is the first time I've been this close to the real deal," He seemed genuinely excited, and for a moment, Sydney thought of Marshall. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the mouth capsule.  
  
"That doesn't look like much, either," Vaughn said to her. Sydney placed it into his hand and he studied it for a moment. "It worked like a charm?" He raised his eyes to Sydney's face, and she smiled.  
  
"Of course," She said smugly.  
  
Vaughn chuckled. "I'm telling you," He said pointedly. "We need to get that guy working for our side."  
  
"Hey!" Gelman interjected good-naturedly. Sydney and Vaughn laughed, then slowly turned to face each other, their smiles fading as their eyes locked. The emotion that passed between them was nearly palpable.  
  
Vaughn absent-mindedly pocketed the capsule and turned to Gelman, clearing his throat. "Hey, Gelman," He was trying to sound as casual as possible. "Agent Bristow and I need to take a few minutes to review the mission objective. You'll be all right here?"  
  
Sydney avoided looking at either of them, feeling uncomfortable about lying to Gelman. But she knew there was no alternative. She busied herself with rebuckeling her backpack.  
  
Gelman barely looked up from his work. "Oh, sure, no problem," He said, his eyes locked on the device as he unraveled a wire to expose the microchip. "I've got my good friend here," He tapped his earpiece, which was attached to a small microphone that ran along his jaw line. "I'll holler if I need you."  
  
"Don't holler," Vaughn smiled. "You'll blow out my eardrum." He tapped his earpiece as he turned to Sydney. "Follow me, Agent Bristow."  
  
Sydney grabbed her backpack and followed Vaughn towards the back of the small room. There was a door there, and Vaughn led her through it, careful to close it securely behind them. Sydney looked around at the even smaller room they were now in. Its walls were hidden behind floor to ceiling shelves where smaller suitcases and other lost or unclaimed items were stacked. In the center of the room a plastic lunch cooler sat on a small table.  
  
"Are you hungry?" Vaughn asked after reaching up to turn off his microphone. He kept his earpiece live, however, in case Gelman needed to get their attention.  
  
Sydney dropped her backpack to the floor and grinned, looking around the small room. It wasn't much, but it was the best they could do. She found it cozy, especially with one of the two bare light bulbs hanging from the ceiling burnt out.  
  
"I'm not sure," She finally answered, moving towards the table. "What have you got?"  
  
"Well, it's not as good as if we could've gone out to eat," Vaughn conceded, reaching to open the cooler. "But I don't know Gelman well enough, and I thought this might be safer." He pulled out two sandwiches, both wrapped in cellophane and still bearing their price tags.  
  
Sydney laughed. "You didn't make this meal," She pointed out.  
  
"I never said I did," Vaughn replied, the corners of his mouth curving into a devilish smile. "Someday, Sydney Bristow, you will taste a home cooked Michael Vaughn meal. But for right now, you'll have to make do with this." He held out one of the sandwiches to her.  
  
Sydney looked at the sandwich and then up at Vaughn's face, his green eyes reflecting the smile on his lips. She realized then that she wasn't hungry and she didn't take the food as it was offered. Instead, she grabbed Vaughn's arm and pulled him to her, giving him no choice but to embrace her as she pressed her body to his. He dropped both sandwiches on the floor as their lips met and the passion they had bottled up finally was allowed to escape.  
  
It was like an overplayed scene from a romantic movie; they assailed each other with a frenzy of kisses and hands. Vaughn pulled Sydney's costume eyeglasses from her face and tossed them onto the table as Sydney worked frantically to loosen his tie. They weren't thinking, then, where this all would lead; all they knew was that they couldn't get enough of each other.   
  
Vaughn backed Sydney up against one of the shelves with a thud as their lips never parted, the kisses deep and meaningful. He clutched her blouse, holding her close as she locked her arms around his body, wanting more, needing nothing less than everything. Vaughn ran his hand down her hip, finding the hem of her skirt as she exhaled sharply at the feeling of his fingers on her thigh. They were lost in each other, both silently pleading with this moment in time to be frozen, when suddenly -  
  
Vaughn jerked back like an injured animal, his hand flying up to his earpiece, his eyes wide and wild. Sydney, her lips burning from his kiss, was momentarily stunned.  
  
"What the -" She stopped abruptly when Vaughn clamped a hand over her mouth.  
  
"Shh!" He admonished sharply, turning to face her, his eyes letting her know that something was terribly, horribly wrong. He withdrew his hand from her mouth as he pressed a finger to his other ear, blocking out all sound but what he was hearing through the small listening device.  
  
"Tell me," Sydney pleaded, her voice a whisper.  
  
"Gelman," Vaughn whispered. "He's not alone, and it's not our guys." He looked stricken, searching Sydney's face for an answer. "They're saying they followed the device. It has a GPS chip in it. They want it back... " Vaughn recoiled again and Sydney reached out to steady him. "They just hit him, I think."  
  
Vaughn listened closely. He could hear Gelman arguing, but it sounded far away. Vaughn concluded the earpiece and microphone must've been knocked from his ear. Then he heard Gelman speak his name and he grabbed Sydney's arm, his eyes hard.  
  
"Gelman just told me they have guns," He told her. "He won't give up the device, and they're threatening to kill him."  
  
"I'm going," Sydney twisted out of Vaughn's grasp and went towards the door. "Call in our guys," She said over her shoulder.  
  
"I'll be right behind you," Vaughn reached down and freed a pistol from his hidden ankle holster, at the same time activating his microphone. He hit the panic button, immediately opening his frequency to any and all agents within range and also broadcasting his words to agents monitoring their mission from the ops center in LA. "O7, this is O9. We have a situation. Two subjects, armed. Mountaineer and O9 fully involved."  
  
Sydney opened the door a mere fraction of an inch and peered into the room. She drew in a sharp breath when her eyes fell upon two men, one of whom was Laughlin, holding handguns to Gelman as he sat in his chair, hands in the air. The device was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Wait for me," Sydney whispered to Vaughn. "I'm going to try to draw them to me and then take them out." Before Vaughn could argue, Sydney stealthily opened the door and stepped into the room, pulling the door partially closed behind her.  
  
Gelman spotted her first and his eyes darted in her direction, followed closely by the eyes of his two assailants.  
  
"What's going on?" Sydney asked innocently, raising her hands slightly. She wanted to catch them off-guard by making them think she posed no threat.  
  
"You!" Laughlin thundered, taking steps towards her. "You're very clever, aren't you?" He grabbed her arm and roughly jerked her towards his accomplice. "That eyelash trick. Very nice, very nice."  
  
"Where's the device?" Laughlin's partner barked at her, pressing his pistol to Gelman's head. "Tell me or it's going to get very messy in here."  
  
Sydney's eyes darted from the thug to Gelman, where their gaze locked. Gelman's eyes opened wider and his mouth formed a hard line. Sydney knew he was telling her not to give anything up, and she couldn't help but feel pride in his bravery. At the same time, she couldn't ignore his bloody lip and swollen, bruised jaw. Gelman had reminded her of Marshall, and the affection she held for him gave way to a deep, boiling well of anger that would not allow these men to get away with a damn thing.  
  
"The device?" Sydney asked, trying to sound clueless.  
  
"Yes, the device," Laughlin shook her arm, causing real pain. She fought through it to remain in control. "It has a GPS chip in it, girlie, and we traced it here. So now he want it back. Is that so difficult to understand?" He demanded, shoving his revolver into Sydney's ribs. She let out a groan but quickly recovered her composure.  
  
Sydney turned slightly towards her captor and sighed heavily. "You know, I was just following orders," She tried to sound as bitter as possible. "And look where it got me. You know what? Who cares? You can have the stupid thing. It's under there." She made a vague gesture toward the table, and both men immediately followed her movement.  
  
"Where?" Laughlin demanded, his eyes scanning the bare floor. "I don't see it."  
  
"Geez," Sydney rolled her eyes. "It's right there!" She bent slightly and pointed, causing Laughlin to bend slightly, too. And as soon as he was distracted, searching for the item that was not there, Sydney attacked.  
  
Twisting hard to break free of Laughlin's grasp, Sydney brought up both of her arms and landed her elbows square in Laughlin's back. With a grunt, Laughlin was brought to his knees as Sydney whirled to face Gelman.  
  
"Get down!" She screamed just as Laughlin rose up and knocked her solidly in the stomach, sending her back about five feet, the wind knocked clear out of her. She hit the floor with a thud as Gelman dove under the table, covering his head with his arms. Laughlin's accomplice was caught by surprise and stood dumbly waving his weapon in the air, unsure which direction to aim.  
  
Meanwhile, behind the door, Vaughn had been repeating his request for backup. He knew the locations of both of the agents they'd had within the airport and a few more who had been stationed outside. But no one was coming to their aid. Confused and angry, Vaughn barked his request once more, and then he witnessed the hit that sent Sydney sprawling.  
  
Instinctively, Vaughn sprang into action, flying out from behind the door and aiming his weapon at Laughlin's head. "Don't move!" He shouted, his voice ferocious. As the words left his mouth, Laughlin turned and fired. Vaughn dove behind a stack of luggage, providing cover for himself and enough of a distraction for Sydney to sweep Laughlin's feet out from underneath him from where she lay on the floor.  
  
Laughlin went down hard as his partner turned his attention to Vaughn. He shot once and then ducked as Vaughn returned fire, finding a gap between two suitcases. Before he ducked again as gunfire rang out above his head, he glanced at Sydney and was relieved to see that she had gotten back on her feet.  
  
Laughlin managed to stagger back to his feet and was attempting to bring his gun up to shoot Sydney when she landed a wicked roundhouse kick that sent the weapon clattering across the floor where it disappeared underneath a storage bin. Laughlin never saw the next kick coming; Sydney hit him squarely in the head and he dropped to the floor with a bone-shaking thud.  
  
With one opponent down, Sydney whirled to turn her attention to the other. She was horrified to discover that he had Gelman by the neck with his revolver pressed to Gelman's temple.  
  
"Back off!" He screamed, his eyes wild. Sydney took a step back, still in fighting stance, ready for anything. From behind her, she heard Vaughn move around the stacks of luggage and take a few hesitant steps forward. He lowered his gun to his side.  
  
"Easy, easy," Vaughn coaxed. "Let's just take it easy." He was speaking to the thug, but his eyes were locked on Gelman's. Gelman looked terrified, his eyes darting between Sydney and Vaughn, silently pleading for someone to save him.  
  
"Give me the device! Give it to me and let me walk out and no one gets hurt!" The man shouted at them, his desperation nearly tangible.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn exchanged looks, communicating silently. Sydney was out of ideas. If she rushed the guy, he would shoot Gelman. If Vaughn shot him, chances were good that his muscles would tense and he'd pull the trigger. Either way, it looked as though Gelman were in trouble.  
  
Vaughn suddenly remembered the capsule in his pocket. He didn't know if there was any sleep agent left in it, but it was worth a try. The backup had not arrived and they were out of options. Vaughn nodded towards a shelf behind the assailant's head.  
  
"The device is on that shelf," He said, meeting the man's eyes. When he turned to look in the direction Vaughn had indicated, Vaughn reached into his pocket and palmed the capsule.  
  
The guy ran his eyes over the shelf and turned back to Vaughn. "Where? I don't see nothin'."  
  
Vaughn took a step towards the guy. "Right there." He raised his arm to point, and at the same time, depressed the capsule. The small amount that was left hit the man right in the face.  
  
"Hey! What was -" With that, he started to fade, his knees weakening. But time suddenly stood still as an evil grin crossed his face as he started to slide to the floor. With one last effort before he passed out, he pointed the gun back at Gelman and pulled the trigger.  
  
Gelman screamed out and dropped to the floor right next to the man who had just put a bullet in his right shoulder.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn were instantly at Gelman's side. "Agent down, agent down," Vaughn shouted into his microphone. "We need an ambulance, now!"  
  
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Gelman moaned, looking down at the blood darkening his shirt. "Oh, this is bad," He gasped, clutching at Sydney's blouse as she hovered over him. "This is really bad."  
  
"Stay still," Sydney instructed, her voice firm but compassionate. Tears rimmed her eyes but she held back, swallowing the lump in her throat. She looked around for something to put under Gelman's head, but there was nothing. Without another thought, she reached up and yanked the long, curly wig from her head. Balling it up, she slid it under Gelman's head as a pillow and then grabbed Gelman's hand.  
  
Vaughn had unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off quickly. He rolled it up and pressed it to Gelman's wound in an effort to stop the unabated flow of blood. Gelman sputtered, struggling against the pain, struggling against the urge to cry. Vaughn saw this and glanced up at Sydney. She could no longer control it; tears rolled down her cheeks. Vaughn continued to apply pressure to Gelman's shoulder as his desire to comfort Sydney made him momentarily forget himself. With his free hand, he reached over and wiped Sydney's cheek before gently cradling her head and bringing her face close to his own.  
  
Just as Vaughn placed a soft, loving kiss on Sydney's trembling lips, the door burst open and the two agents from the airport rushed the room, guns drawn and ready. They stopped short when they saw Vaughn, Sydney and Gelman among the unconscious gunmen. The agents were out of breath and simply stared at the scene, neither one believing it. They had not missed the kiss, and when they added that to everything else they saw, nothing made much sense.  
  
Vaughn was incensed. He jumped to his feet, pointing a bloody hand at his fellow agents. "Where the hell were you?" He demanded. "How the hell did these guys get past you?"  
  
"Past us?" The agent in the coveralls shot back, incredulous. "How'd they get past you?"  
  
"Yeah!" The other agent chimed in. "Where were you when these guys got in here?" Vaughn was about to comment but was stopped cold when a voice boomed in his ear, transmitted from the ops center in Los Angeles.  
  
"That's a good question, Agent Vaughn," Kendall thundered. "Where were you and Agent Bristow?"  
  
All eyes turned to Vaughn as he turned a slow circle until he was facing Sydney. She was applying pressure to Gelman's wound and talking softly to him, but something made her look up at Vaughn, her eyes questioning. He looked back at her as the sound of loud voices in the hallway followed by the clatter of an ambulance gurney filled the small room. The only sound Vaughn heard, however, was the deafening crash of his world falling in around him.  
  
Sydney sniffed and wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, her eyes fixed on the wooden table before her. The memories of that night were still fresh and painful to explore. She licked her lips and tried to continue, but she couldn't find the words she so desperately was seeking. It occurred to her then that there were no words that could make the situation seem any better. It was horrible, and had to be exposed as just that.  
  
Senator Marchard waited a moment in respectful silence before speaking. "Agent Bristow," He said, his voice almost gentle. "Were you aware that the communication device was equipped with a GPS chip?"  
  
Sydney shook her head. "It was the one thing neither SD-6 nor the CIA anticipated," She said. "The whole thing just unfolded in such a bizarre way. I can honestly say that I've never had a mission where all the steps took a wrong turn."  
  
"It says in Agent Vaughn's post-mission report that there was a security scare in another area of Heathrow and that was what prevented any agents from getting to the baggage claim offices," Senator Marchard looked over the document in front of him, then raised his eyes to Sydney's face. "Is that your statement, as well?"  
  
"It's an indisputable fact, Senator," Sydney nodded. "Airport security gave the CIA a signed deposition stating the same." She shifted in the chair, noticing for the first time how tense she was. "Thankfully ambulance personnel were already on the scene. They were able to get to us and get Agent Gelman to the hospital quickly."  
  
"Agent Gelman will recover, and the device was recovered from his pants pocket," the Senator said this as a statement of fact, not a question, but Sydney still nodded in reply. "What happened, Agent Bristow, when you returned to Los Angeles?"  
  
Sydney took a sip of her water and slipped back into memory. She recalled sitting in Kendall's office at the CIA ops center and not daring to even look at Vaughn even though he was sitting less than two feet away. He was doing the same, sitting uncomfortably as Kendall looked at them and tapped a pen on his desktop, his anger filling the small space like a vapor.  
  
"At the very least, Agent Vaughn," Kendall began, clacking the pen into his top desk drawer so hard that it echoed. "You'll be reassigned. There is no way in hell you will remain Agent Bristow's handler."  
  
"Yes, sir," Vaughn conceded, finally daring to meet Kendall's eyes. He couldn't read Kendall's expression, but he thought he sensed a trace of sadness.  
  
"You'll both have to face the IOC," Kendall went on. He looked over at Sydney and met her gaze, his eyes narrowing. "We'll do everything we can to cover for you at SD-6, Agent Bristow, but we won't do it as a favor to you. We don't want to jeopardize the work you two have done so far," He pointedly looked back at Vaughn. "Work that ended, at least on your part, Agent Vaughn, when you crossed a line you were warned repeatedly not to cross."  
  
"Sir," Sydney tried to speak up in Vaughn's defense, but Kendall cut her off.  
  
"And as for you, Agent Bristow, I believe it was your own father who made it clear to you that this kind of behavior was the quickest way to get yourself bounced out of here, or worse, get you killed." His voice rose in a crescendo of frustration. "But that wasn't enough to deter you. I will never understand it."  
  
"We're equally responsible for this," Sydney finally interjected. "It wasn't Agent Vaughn-"  
  
"Syd, stop," Vaughn finally turned to her, his eyes imploring. "Let me take the heat. You still have work to do with SD-6. Whatever happens to me-"  
  
"Isn't that cute," Kendall interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Sydney and Vaughn fell silent. Kendall sat back in his chair, looking from one to the other, his jaw set. "Agent Vaughn," He said finally, waiting for Vaughn to look up before he continued. "You told me once that what you wanted to accomplish most in this job was to be as good an agent as your father. Son, I hate to say it, but this is not the way to make that happen."  
  
The meeting room was absolutely silent as Sydney once again struggled to control her tears. She drew in a shaky breath and raised the drinking glass to her lips before taking a sip followed by a long, thirsty gulp. She was hot and feeling sticky, like she'd been there for days, wearing these clothes for weeks. She'd never felt more out of place, more alone.  
  
"I think we're done for today," Senator Marchard finally said, shuffling the papers before him. "Thank you for your time, Agent Bristow. We'll be-"  
  
"Wait," Sydney found her voice again, raising a hand to the committee, stopping them as they began to gather their things. "I just want to tell you that Agent Vaughn is probably going to come in here tomorrow and try to take all the blame, all the responsibility for this. Please consider what I've said here today. I was just as much a participant in this as he was."  
  
"Thank you, Agent Bristow. We've noted that," Senator Marchard's tone was kind. He could see how weary Sydney was and he wanted to end this session as gently as possible. "We'll be meeting with him tomorrow, and then we'll see you both on Friday."  
  
Sydney nodded and reached down next to her chair for her purse. She was more tired than she could remember being in a long time. As she stood up, her legs felt like lead, and she had to force herself to walk to the door and through it as the same agent from earlier in the day held it open for her. She remembered seeing him, but it felt like it was years ago.  
  
Stepping into the corridor, Sydney stopped in her tracks as she looked up at the wooden bench. Vaughn was still gone, but in his place sat someone else, someone whose arms she went to now, someone who folded her into a much-needed hug. Her father.  
  
******* 


	5. Into the Gentle Night

Chapter Five: Into the Gentle Night  
  
Holding a stack of printouts, the young agent knocked tentatively on Kendall's door. Getting no response, he opened the door far enough to stick his head in and take a look around. Kendall was sitting at his formica- topped desk, his phone to his ear. He glanced up and noticed the agent just as he was about to retreat.  
  
"Baylor, wait," Kendall called out. The young agent stopped and opened the door a bit wider to allow himself to step inside the small office. Kendall turned his attention back to the phone. "Rich, that's a valid argument, and I'd love to get into it with you, but at this moment I have more pressing issues. I'll call you later." With that, he dropped the receiver into the cradle and lifted his steely blue eyes to the young man who stood before him. "What?"  
  
Baylor nervously shuffled through the sheaf of papers in his hand. He was new to this ops center and new to Kendall's command. He had yet to fully control his fear at dealing with the man whose difficult reputation preceded him.  
  
"Sir," Baylor swallowed hard. "Was Irina Derevko surfing the internet yesterday?"  
  
Kendall did not seem at all surprised by the question, which caught Baylor off guard. "Yes, she was. Why?"  
  
Baylor shuffled the papers again until he found the appropriate page. "Well, sir, I assume she was being monitored, right?"  
  
Kendall was losing patience, but he held his tongue. "Yes, she was, Baylor. She was allowed to work on a computer to try to trace the origin of the GPS chip used in the device agents Vaughn and Bristow recently acquired. There was another agent with her the whole time."  
  
"The whole time?" Baylor echoed, incredulous.  
  
"Yes, except for when he went to get Derevko a cup of coffee," Kendall replied, his voice deepening as his curiosity increased. "But we weren't concerned because she was chained to the work station and had two US Marshals within five feet of her." He motioned towards the documents in Baylor's hands. "And because of those, the computer security dumps. We'd know if she did anything unauthorized because everything she does is recorded and then printed out."  
  
"Well, sir, something very interesting printed out," Baylor held up one of the sheets, his eyebrows raised. "Were you aware that Derevko went to an internet florist, sent someone a bouquet of one dozen yellow roses, and had it charged to the CIA?"  
  
"What?" Kendall rose slowly to his feet, his face registering surprise and then anger. He let out a deep breath before asking the question to which he believed he already knew the answer. "Who did she send them to?"  
  
Baylor took a moment to consult the document, then he looked up, his eyes reflecting mild amusement. "Sydney Bristow."  
  
Sydney emerged from her bedroom feeling warm and slightly dazed, her head still buzzy from hours of deep sleep. She wrapped herself in a favorite oatmeal colored sweater and headed for the kitchen, her stomach rumbling, impatient for food.  
  
At the dining room table, Will Tippin was working at his laptop, a well- chewed pencil between his teeth. His eyes danced from notebook to computer screen as he fingers flew over the keys, pausing only briefly to flip pages or absently ruffle his short blonde hair.  
  
When Sydney entered the room on her way to the kitchen, Will stopped and sat back in the chair, spitting the pencil into his hand.  
  
"Hey, Syd," He said affectionately. "How are you?" His voice was warm with compassion as Sydney stopped next to the table, raising her eyes to meet his.  
  
"I've been better, Will," She replied, honesty making her voice tight. "But I'm glad I slept. What time is it?"  
  
Will consulted his watch. "Almost five. Francie left for the restaurant about an hour ago, and I figured it'd be safe to work out here at the table on some of the research I'm doing for Vaughn."  
  
At the mention of his name, Sydney almost involuntarily turned away, a shadow crossing her eyes. She started towards the kitchen again, rubbing her stomach as she went.  
  
Will followed her with his eyes. "If you're hungry, there's some left over Kung Pao chicken in the fridge," He offered. He listened as Sydney opened and closed the refrigerator and watched as she came back to the dining room with a Chinese take-out container in one hand and chopsticks in the other.  
  
"I think sometimes it tastes better cold," Sydney explained, answering a question Will had not asked. She both did and did not want to discuss Vaughn, but she felt that the subject would eventually be unavoidable.  
  
Will got up from the table and disappeared into the front hall for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a bouquet of one dozen yellow roses in a clear glass vase. Sydney looked up and nearly dropped her chopsticks along with a broccoli floret she was lifting to her mouth.  
  
"These came for you," Will set them on the table and handed the card to Sydney. "I didn't want to wake you, but Francie and I have been dying to know who they're from." His blue eyes bore a mischievous twinkle as he dropped back into his chair, picking up his pencil and tucking it behind his ear.  
  
Sydney rose from her seat and reached for the vase, turning it to get a better view of the lovely flowers. She buried her face in their blooms, inhaling the deep aroma and smiling. She had a suspicion who had sent them as she slid her fingernail along the edge of the envelope, slitting it open. After reading it to herself, she read it aloud to Will.  
  
"It says, `Be strong, Gentle Heart. Be true.'" Sydney nodded and then looked up at Will with wet eyes. "My mother," She told him, her suspicion confirmed.  
  
Will was dumbfounded, his eyes wide. "Your mother?" He echoed in disbelief. "How is that possible?"  
  
"With Irina Derevko, anything is possible," Sydney dropped the card onto the tabletop and slid back into her seat, wrapping herself tighter in the cozy sweater and swallowing tears. She picked up her chopsticks and went back to eating, avoiding Will's eyes as he searched for understanding.  
  
"How do you know, though?" Will pestered, closing the laptop and leaning forward, his curiosity getting the best of him. "The note isn't signed."  
  
"The day I was born," Sydney answered, her voice small. "My mother was out buying yellow roses when she went into labor. Up until the time she disappeared, she bought yellow roses every year on my birthday." Sydney paused to retrieve a pea pod that had slipped from the chopsticks. She had Will's undivided attention as she went on. "And she called me `Gentle Heart' once, in kindergarten, when we found a dead baby bird on our back porch and I cried about it for hours."  
  
Will was speechless. His eyes never left Sydney's face as he watched her struggle to remain in control of her emotions. Several minutes of silence passed while Sydney ate, although her appetite was not what it usually was. Will tried to get back to his work, opening the computer once again, but his concern for Sydney was stealing his ability to concentrate.  
  
"What happened yesterday, Syd?" Will asked suddenly. He got up from his seat and walked around the table before pulling out a chair next to Sydney and sitting down. "You got back so late; I wanted to talk to you, but I wasn't sure you'd be up for it."  
  
Sydney looked up from the cold Kung Pao and into the face of her trusted friend, the only friend she had who knew all her secrets, who understood her truths, and who never held a single one against her. She reached out to squeeze his hand, and then in a halting voice, she told him everything.  
  
When she was finished with it all, right down to the part where she had fallen, exhausted, into her father's supportive arms, Sydney pushed the take-out box into the center of the table and put her head down on her arms. Will stroked her soft, chestnut hair, smoothing it down over her shoulders.  
  
"Where did Vaughn go?" Will asked the question that had echoed through Sydney's head all day, the one question for which she did not have a good answer.  
  
Sydney didn't raise her head. "I don't know," She said in a muffled voice. Will could not tell if she was crying. "I haven't heard from him."  
  
"Have you tried to call him?"  
  
"No," Sydney sighed, turning her head to the side. Her eyes were red, but she was not crying. She was convinced she had shed enough tears so far to last her a week. "I spent a few hours with my father last night, and he told me that it's possible our phone conversations are being monitored."  
  
"That's crazy," Will declared, getting up from his chair and heading towards the kitchen. "Can they do that? You're not criminals."  
  
"No, but we did endanger the life of an agent of the CIA," Sydney sat up. "We could have caused an international incident had those men run off into the airport with their guns blazing. It could've been so much worse."  
  
Will returned to the room with a beer for himself and a can of diet Coke for Sydney. She smiled at him gratefully and popped the can open just before taking a long, thirsty swallow.  
  
"I guess I don't understand how these things work," Will slid a hand into the pocket of his jeans. He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense to me that you guys are being punished when ultimately you protected the device-thingy that everyone was so up in arms about."  
  
"An agent was shot," Sydney reminded him.  
  
"I know," Will sighed after taking a swig of his beer. "I know that, and I also know that you and Vaughn should not be kept apart." He was just as surprised by his words as Sydney was. She had known for quite some time that Will carried a torch for her that had only burned brighter once he had learned the truth. And now, to be advocating that she and Vaughn be together - Sydney was touched.  
  
"Will," She got to her feet to face him. "Thank you. For being my friend, and, well - for so much I can't even put into words."  
  
Will readily embraced her, squeezing her in a tight hug. When they parted, he set his beer down on the table and clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms as he grinned.  
  
"It would appear to me, Syd," He said, his voice taking on a mysterious lilt. "That if you and Vaughn can't talk on the phone, then you'll just have to talk in person." When Sydney opened her mouth to protest, Will held up a hand to stop her. "I know what you're going to say, and believe me when I say I agree, it does sound crazy. But I have an idea - at least hear me out."  
  
An hour later, after a hastily hatched plan and an even more hasty shower, Sydney was curled up on the back seat of Will's Bronco, hidden from view. On the floor beside her were a long blonde wig and two brown paper sacks of "groceries", which in actuality were filled with nothing more than stacks of old newspapers.  
  
Sydney tried her best to relax. She couldn't decide what was making her heart pound the way it was - attempting to pull off this plan or her deep desire to see Vaughn again. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the cool vinyl seat, losing herself momentarily in the song on the radio. She was startled back to the present when the car came to a halt and Will cut off the ignition.  
  
"We're here," He said, turning in his seat to look at Sydney. She cautiously lifted her head to see out the side window, thankful for the tinted glass. "There doesn't seem to be many people around," Will observed, looking left and right at the parking lot and road leading to it in front of Vaughn's apartment building. It was almost dark, the twilight fading as the moon rose in the eastern sky.  
  
Without a sound, Sydney sat up in the back seat and pulled a large barrette from her pocket. She skillfully tied up her long hair and secured it against her scalp before pulling on the blonde wig, careful to press it as tight to her head as possible. She didn't have the time now to prepare as she usually did before her missions, but she didn't want that to be an excuse for her disguise to appear shoddy.  
  
In the driver's seat, Will had pulled out a map of Los Angeles and a pen light and pretended to be searching for something on the large, unfolded page. Every once in a while he glanced over at the front door of the building, waiting to see if anyone approached. The plan was simple: Vaughn's building was secure and required anyone wishing to enter to either have a key or be buzzed in by a resident. Sydney was going to attempt to get herself inside while the door was being opened for someone else.  
  
"I'm ready," Sydney said quietly, hoisting the grocery bags into her arms and opening the car door just enough to be able to nudge it with her elbow when the time was right.  
  
Will reached up and disabled the interior lights so they could remain inconspicuous. He glanced up at the door once more and immediately leaned across the passenger seat for a better view.  
  
"Syd, there's a guy walking towards the door with keys in his hand," Will hurriedly said. "Go now."  
  
"Thanks, Will," Sydney whispered as she pushed the door open with her elbow and quickly stepped onto the pavement. She shoved the car door closed with her hip and then jogged a few feet until she was close enough to call out to the man who was just sliding his key into the front door.  
  
"You hoo!" Sydney called out, her voice thick with syrupy southern twang. "Hey there," She flashed the man a winning smile as he glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Would you mind holding that door for me? I just can't get to my keys right now."  
  
The man smiled back and pulled the door open, stepping aside to let Sydney pass. As she did, she winked and thanked him sweetly. "My pleasure, miss," He nodded at her as she went by and headed for the stairs.  
  
Taking them two at a time, Sydney paused when she reached the first landing and pressed her back against the wall. She could hear the man checking his mail, the metallic clang of the lobby mailbox opening and closing echoing in the narrow corridor. She held her breath and waited to see if the man was going to take the stairs. If so, she had to hide somewhere or go up to the third floor and hope he didn't follow her there. She was not going to risk letting anyone see her go into Vaughn's apartment.  
  
To her relief, Sydney heard the keys in the door of a first floor apartment. She waited a few breathless moments more until she was certain she was not going to be followed before continuing up to the second floor. Once there, she poked her head into the hallway. Finding it deserted, Sydney stepped silently down the hallway until she reached Vaughn's door. She took a deep breath, raised her hand, and knocked.  
  
On the other side of the door, Vaughn was stretched out on the couch, a cold beer in one hand and the remote control in the other. He was restlessly channel surfing, his mind unable to concentrate on any one thing for any length of time. He had never changed out of his clothes from the day and the fact that he was putting awful creases in his best pair of suit trousers never crossed his mind.  
  
A knock on the door roused him from his mindless state, and he cautiously sat up, listening carefully. The knock sounded again, this time slightly more persistent. Vaughn set his beer on the remote on the wooden coffee table and got to his feet.  
  
Leaning in to peer out the peephole, Vaughn was wholly unprepared for the person he saw on the other side of his door. Once recognition seized him, he was unable to open the door fast enough, fumbling with the deadbolt lock.  
  
"Sydney!" Vaughn exclaimed, swinging the door open wide. His face wore and expression of both shock and wonder. "How - what?"  
  
Sydney hurriedly brushed past him, dropping the paper sacks just inside the apartment before she turned and quickly closed the door, securely locking it. There was a moment of hesitation, and then -  
  
They were in each other's arms, kissing, holding, and grasping each other as if it had been weeks and not hours since they'd shared the same space. Vaughn knocked Sydney's wig to the floor and released her beautiful chestnut hair before burying his hands in it as he kissed her with passion that left them both breathless and panting. When they finally parted, Vaughn was once again intoxicated with her and she was in tears, gripping Vaughn's dress shirt between her slender fingers.  
  
"Where were you?" She questioned, her voice broken. "Yesterday, Michael. where were you?"  
  
Vaughn didn't know what pricked his heart more, hearing her speak his name or the small, scared voice with which she spoke it. He took her face in his hands and kissed her tears, wanting nothing more than to stop the pain she was feeling now and any pain she would ever feel again.  
  
"I'm sorry," Vaughn said quietly, pulling back from her. Sydney's watery eyes searched his face for understanding. "Come here," He took her hand and led her to the couch. Once they were seated and Vaughn had turned off the TV, he explained. "I got a 911 page to come to the ops center," He said, his eyes darkening. "Kendall wanted to meet with me. Apparently he knew that the committee wasn't going to see me yesterday."  
  
"Didn't Kendall pretty much say all he needed to say when we got back from London?" Sydney interjected, a flash of anger crossing her face.  
  
"Apparently not," Vaughn looked down at his hands. "He wanted to tell me that I've been relieved of active duty until this all blows over."  
  
"What?" Sydney's eyes grew wide. "Vaughn-"  
  
Vaughn covered her hands with his own, trying to reassure her. "It's nothing to worry about. It's standard procedure. When this mess gets cleaned up, I'll be fully restored to active duty." He tried his best to sound nonchalant, but Sydney knew this was tearing him up inside. "Speaking of Kendall," Vaughn said suddenly. "Do you have any idea what might happen if he finds out you're here?"  
  
"Vaughn," Sydney narrowed her eyes, her voice strong. "We've come too far to worry about the rules now," She reminded him. "Besides, no one knows I'm here except for you, me and Will Tippin. And he won't tell anyone."  
  
Vaughn considered this for a moment, then he smiled. "I'm glad you're here," He reached out and touched Sydney's cheek. She smiled back, the sight of him filling places within her that had been empty too long.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn spent the next hour just talking, something they never seemed to have been able to do before. It was fortifying for both of them to sit together with a couple glasses of wine and just share thoughts and events of their day. Vaughn filled Sydney in on his experience with the committee, which was similar to her own in many ways. Sydney told Vaughn about spending the previous evening with her father and how, surprisingly, he had been unusually quiet on the subject, choosing to listen and offer support instead of trying to smother her with unwanted advice.  
  
"I mean, my father is not the type to get in someone's face and say `I told you so', but he certainly had the right in this situation," Sydney grinned as she reclined against Vaughn on the couch, her feet dangling over the side. She rested a glass of wine on her stomach, cradling the sweet beverage in her left hand as her right lay in Vaughn's lap, their fingers entwined. "He actually just let me talk it out. He just listened."  
  
"Your dad is a good guy," Vaughn offered, sipping his wine. "Too bad he doesn't think the same of me," He grinned as Sydney let out a laugh.  
  
"That's not true," She insisted. "He just questions your judgment, I think."  
  
The talk of her father sparked Sydney's memory. She told Vaughn about her mother sending roses. Although Vaughn didn't say much about Irina Derevko, he did express wonderment over her ingenuity. And then he mentioned the one thing that had been pressing on Sydney's heart ever since she first inhaled the robust aroma of those yellow blooms.  
  
"This definitely won't make the decision any easier for you," Vaughn said, his voice distant and slightly defeated. He was confident that Sydney knew what decision he was referring to. Her silence spoke volumes. "Not that a decision needs to be made, really. But just in case."  
  
Sydney drew in a deep breath and swiveled on the couch to face Vaughn, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. "How bad can it be, Vaughn? Other than reassigning you, how bad can the consequences be?"  
  
Vaughn sat up, also, rubbing his tired eyes. "Honestly, I don't know," He met Sydney's eyes, his expression unreadable. "I asked Kendall that yesterday, and he wouldn't tell me anything. Not being your handler is punishment enough, though, Syd," Vaughn reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. "I'll miss you."  
  
"Let's not dwell on that right now," Sydney urged, getting to her feet. "I'd rather do something a lot more fun." She pulled Vaughn to his feet and started to pull him towards the hallway that led to the bedroom.  
  
Vaughn grinned, feigning reluctance. "But Sydney," He said. "We have to be up early tomorrow."  
  
"I need you to make me forget about that right now," Sydney turned to him, her tone light but her eyes bearing traces of sadness. Vaughn just smiled, took her by the hand, and led her into his room.  
  
Some time later, they lay naked together beneath tangled sheets, their bodies spent and their hearts full. Sydney rested her head on Vaughn's chest and sighed, the weight of the day ahead starting to creep in, pound by pound and ounce by ounce. She wanted assurances that they would be all right, that what they were facing was nothing more than an inconvenience, a challenge to them to find creative ways to be together. A nagging doubt continually invaded Sydney's thoughts, and as Vaughn fell asleep next to her, his breathing deep and steady, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was right. Maybe it would be easier to just go away, to leave all this behind.  
  
Sydney couldn't help but feel that Vaughn was her second chance. Danny had been stolen from her and now she had been given this gift, this opportunity to love completely once again. Somehow it felt wrong to thumb her nose at it by not stealing every chance they had for a normal, love-filled life. And yet there were other things to consider. She had friends and a home and her father, not to mention her mother, who seemed determined to make this decision all the more gut wrenching.  
  
"Be strong, Gentle Heart. Be true," Sydney whispered into the darkness, repeating the words her mother had sent to her earlier that day. At the moment, they felt like contradictions. If she were strong, she would stay and face the hardship. If she was true, she would trust her heart and they would run away.  
  
Sydney glanced back at Vaughn as he slept, his face peaceful. She knew it was good advice, being strong and being true. She just wished she knew which one would see her through to a life full of moments like these.  
  
******  
  
A/N: More to come! To those of you who have contributed a review, your words have been so kind and encouraging. These words seem inadequate to express my gratitude, but - thank you. 


	6. There But for the Grace of You

Chapter Six: There But for the Grace of You  
  
Sydney Bristow nervously wet her lips and glanced at her watch. She noted that for nearly ten minutes, she and Michael Vaughn had been sitting before the Intelligence Oversight Committee, waiting in silence. The air in the room was still and Sydney felt the warmth against her skin, shifting slightly as perspiration made her uncomfortable inside her clothes. She had dressed as conservatively as possible, a deep blue blouse buttoned up to her neck underneath an even deeper blue blazer; it was a decision she regretted as beads of sweat ran down her spine.  
  
In an effort to pass the time, or perhaps to avoid thinking about the reason they were sitting there, Sydney allowed her mind to wander back a few hours to that morning. As the sun was rising, brilliant orange and gold consuming the eastern sky, she stood at Vaughn's window watching the daylight unfold.  
  
Vaughn, fresh from sleep and smelling of toothpaste, came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. He kissed her ear and then rested his chin on her shoulder, looking past her to the budding light outside.  
  
"Syd," He said, his deep morning voice vibrating against her skin. "I was just thinking, remembering, actually - uhm, last night, we didn't-"  
  
"I know," Sydney put in suddenly, resting her hands on Vaughn's. "It's okay. I think we're fine."  
  
Vaughn squeezed her tighter as they fell silent, both of their thoughts drifting. They stayed that way for several minutes, their bodies touching, their breathing matched and steady. She didn't want to do it, but Sydney finally broke away, turning to face Vaughn as he straightened up and yawned.  
  
"I need to go home and shower," Sydney said, hating the idea of leaving. "We're due to see the committee at eight."  
  
Vaughn hung his head for a moment. "I'll go next door and have my neighbor call you a cab. I don't want to risk doing it from here." When he lifted his eyes again, he couldn't help but smile. "That's a good look for you, by the way."  
  
Sydney grinned. When she'd rolled out of Vaughn's arms and climbed out of the bed, she'd grabbed the first available thing to wrap herself it. It had turned out to be Vaughn's dress shirt from the day before.  
  
"You think so?" She turned a circle and curtsied, stealing a moment to be silly before motioning back towards the bedroom. "Well, I guess I'd better go change so I can leave." She didn't move, however, and neither did Vaughn.  
  
"Syd," He sighed heavily, coming to her once again. They embraced, Sydney resting her forehead against Vaughn's stubbled cheek. "No matter what happens today, nothing changes the way I feel about you." He pulled back to look into her eyes. "I love you, Sydney."  
  
Sydney snapped out of her reverie as a door at the rear of the room opened and Senator Marchard walked in, followed by a stenographer and the same CIA agent who'd been with them from the start. The Committee had been waiting for Senator Marchard's arrival; as chairman, he would be the one to announce the committee's decision. When he took his seat, Sydney's heart leapt into her throat.  
  
"My apologies," Senator Marchard glanced up at Sydney and Vaughn. "My alarm clock picked a helluva morning to quit working."  
  
The comment raised a collection of chuckles from around the room, and Sydney looked up sharply. She found it hard to laugh at anything inside this place, let alone the Senator being late to deliver the news that would change her life.  
  
Beside her, Vaughn was aware of Sydney fidgeting noiselessly as Senator Marchard took his time laying out his notes in front of him. Watching all this, Vaughn felt as though there was nothing beneath his shirt but a hollow place with winter winds whipping through. He swallowed hard and tried to concentrate as the Senator began to speak.  
  
"Good morning, Agent Bristow, Agent Vaughn," Senator Marchard nodded at each of them. "I'd like to start out by thanking you for being punctual, courteous and accommodating during this whole proceeding. You have answered our questions truthfully and to the best of your ability, and we appreciate that," He took time to glance behind him at his fellow senators, several of whom were nodding in agreement.  
  
Sydney was trying to focus on his words, but the sound of her heart pounding in her ears made it nearly impossible. She wanted him to hurry, to get the point, to unveil their future. And when the words were finally spoken, she wanted to be holding Vaughn's hand. Knowing that she couldn't was a truth that hurt her somewhere deep within.  
  
"Before I tell you the Committee's decision, I want to be sure you know that it was a decision that was not taken lightly," Marchard's voice was deep, his tone somber. "After Agent Vaughn left here yesterday, we argued the details for a long while before we came to an agreement."  
  
Vaughn wanted to reach for Sydney's hand, although he knew it was a bad idea. It didn't matter, anyway; he wasn't sure his mind could spark his arm to action. He felt almost completely numb, his racing heart and idle limbs somehow oddly disconnected.  
  
Senator Marchard paused dramatically, shuffling pages of his notes before continuing. "It will come as no surprise to either of you that this Committee has requested that Agent Vaughn be removed from his position as Agent Bristow's handler." His expression dark, Marchard looked directly at Sydney. "Deputy Director Devlin has assured me, Agent Bristow, that he will do his best to find a suitable replacement, someone you will work with just as well. The Committee, however, has recommended that this new agent be a female, as to avoid any such situations in the future."  
  
Sydney sat back hard against her chair, the Senator's words biting. Chagrinned, her cheeks reddened, heat rising up her neck and spreading across her face. It was hard enough to be a woman in the "boys' club" of the CIA. Sydney was ashamed, thinking she had just made it even harder. Now the men in charge would think twice before pairing a female agent with a male; the proposition was just too risky - and risqué.  
  
"As for your future, Agent Vaughn," Senator Marchard shifted his focus, his voice deepening with authority. "We have weighed many issues in making a decision, including your father's honorable, dedicated service and your consistent record of success. We also took into consideration your lapse in judgment with Agent Bristow and the seriousness of the incident in London." His eyes locked with Vaughn's, his point successfully made. "In short, Agent Vaughn, we took into account many things, especially insight we received from a senior agent of the CIA."  
  
A feeling of dread pooled in Vaughn's stomach. He closed his eyes momentarily as the realization consumed him that this was going to be much worse than he'd allowed himself to believe.  
  
Marchard continued. "Based on all that, and also due to your command of the language and familiarity with the country and its culture, it is this Committee's unanimous decision and strong recommendation that you be permanently reassigned to the CIA operations center located in Paris, France."  
  
As the words penetrated her mind, Sydney was suddenly struck with the strongest sense of deja vu she had ever experienced. She saw Vaughn's face, a tidal wave of water, a door slamming shut. It was Taipei all over again, except this time she had not seen it coming.  
  
Next to her, Vaughn was in shock. Ever since they'd been told they were facing the IOC, his mind had flirted with this possibility, that he would be transferred somewhere far away. He had always managed to push those thoughts back into the dark corners of improbability. But now, here it was, laid out in full, his deepest fear on display for the whole room to share.  
  
"Agent Vaughn," Marchard said, his voice now devoid of any of the warmth it had once possessed. "I have been asked to instruct you to report to Deputy Director Devlin immediately after we adjourn. As for you, Agent Bristow," Marchard waited until Sydney met his eyes before going on. "I would advise you to take the rest of this day and the weekend to re-sort your priorities and make a determination to devote yourself fully to your objective. You'll be expected to report to Assistant Director Kendall first thing Monday morning to meet your new handler."  
  
Sydney had been trained to mask her feelings, to compartmentalize everything. She struggled now to remind herself that she was a professional, that breaking down or crying out in front of these distinguished Senators was not an option, even though the compartments in her head were flooding, their varied thoughts and feelings spilling into each other like a rain swollen river cresting its banks. Unable to speak or to cry, she was left in silence and shock, her body still, her mind a raging torrent.  
  
Senator Marchard gathered his things, snapping his briefcase closed before standing up and turning to face his colleagues. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time and attention. We are adjourned."  
  
The room was suddenly full of noise. Chairs scraped against the tiled floor, water glasses clinked against pitchers, papers were folded and shuffled, people spoke in hushed voices. Most of the Committee members left through the rear door, only a few daring to walk near the two stunned and silent agents at the front of the room.  
  
It was only once the room was empty that Sydney and Vaughn dared to turn and look at each other. Their faces mirrored their feelings: shock, disbelief, denial.  
  
Sydney was the first to stand up, setting her purse on the tabletop forcefully as her steel will asserted itself, pushing all emotion aside.  
  
"Okay," She said determinedly. "What do we do now?"  
  
Vaughn stood up slowly, pausing to straighten his suit coat. "Right now I'm going to go find out how much time we have before I leave for France."  
  
"You're not going to go, are you?" Sydney was incredulous. A part of her was angry that Vaughn seemed unwilling to fight this, even though deep down she knew it was a losing battle.  
  
"What would you have me do, Syd?" Vaughn questioned, his eyes imploring. "I can't just not go. I can't just quit. We still couldn't be seen together around LA - SD-6 security would have us both killed." He sighed heavily, unable to think of a single thing to dress this wound, to make any of it feel better. "Besides, you heard Senator Marchard - a senior agent of the CIA helped them reach this decision. I'm about to go sit in that senior agent's office; do you honestly think he'll change his mind?"  
  
"So you think it was Devlin?"  
  
"Does it matter?" Vaughn's eyes looked tired, his shoulders slumped. "Does it really matter who it was? If it was Devlin or not, it won't change a damn thing."  
  
Sydney's strong facade was starting to splinter. She struggled to stay within the anger. It was much easier than dwelling inside the pain. "But France?" Sydney finally said, her voice weak. "Vaughn, that's - that's all the way across the ocean." Her eyes burned with tears at the thought of that distance, those many miles.  
  
Vaughn took Sydney's hands into his own and looked deep into her eyes. "Syd, I'd cross a thousand oceans for you," He told her, his voice strong with conviction. "I don't have a doubt that we will find a way to deal with this. But right now, I need to go see Devlin. If I don't show up soon, we may find ourselves in more trouble."  
  
Sydney shook her head, trying to keep reality at bay for a while longer. "But there has to be something," She insisted, her fighting spirit unwilling to give in. "There has to be an alternative."  
  
Vaughn suddenly withdrew his hands and walked around the table, moving towards the door. Halfway there, he stopped and turned. "I gave you an alternative," He said pointedly. "And you said no."  
  
Sydney could not meet his eyes.  
  
"I have to go see Devlin," Vaughn said, turning away. "I'll call you when I know the details." And with that, he was gone, leaving Sydney with nothing but the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.  
  
Finding herself alone, her heart fractured, Sydney felt the last of her strength drain away as reality settled in with numbing certainty. Eyes wet with tears threatening to fall, she looked around the empty room, the place where her hopes had been crushed. It was all at once too much to take and Sydney fell back into the chair as choking sobs escaped her throat, tears coming hard and fast. She dropped her head to the tabletop, cradling her face in her arms, sobbing until the ache in her sides was equal to the one in her heart.  
  
Crying as she was, nothing in the world existed but her pain. Sydney was wholly unaware that someone had entered the room. A forgotten cell phone had caused Senator Wendy Schulman to return, and as she entered the room, she was alarmed to find Sydney in such a state of despair.  
  
Suddenly feeling a hand on her arm, Sydney jerked up, her face a mess of tears and smeared make-up. She was startled to see Senator Schulman, and even more surprised by the woman's attempt to comfort her. She gently squeezed Sydney's arm, her eyes full of sympathy. Then the Senator turned and silently left the room well before Sydney could find her voice or even think of anything to say.  
  
Sydney sat in silence for a long time, her thoughts racing, dwelling on the motivation for Senator Schulman's kindness. It came to her suddenly, the realization that perhaps not everyone in that room had wanted to reach a unanimous decision. Perhaps there were holdouts, perhaps arguments on her and Vaughn's behalf. Sydney searched her mind for what could possibly have caused them to give in, and when it hit her, a tidal wave of disgust washed over her, instantly replacing her tears with anger.  
  
"A senior agent of the CIA," Sydney said aloud, repeating Marchard's words. Vaughn had asked her if it mattered who that agent was. The answer was yes, it mattered. It mattered to her because it could mean the difference between LA and Paris, a difference that to her was as wide as a thousand oceans were deep.  
  
Kendall rummaged through the bottom drawer of his desk, his frustration increasing with each unsuccessful moment that passed. The morning had been more problematic than usual, drawing relentlessly on his notoriously thin patience. And now, as he grumbled and searched for the bottle of Pepto Bismol he was sure he had, his day was not improving. In fact, he didn't know it just yet, but it was about to get steadily worse.  
  
It started with the appearance of Sydney Bristow. Just as Kendall finally wrapped his hand around the rouge bottle of stomach soothing pink liquid, his door opened forcefully and Sydney walked in, her eyes targeted on his startled face.  
  
"Agent Bristow," Kendall quickly stood, smoothing his necktie. "I wasn't expecting you until Monday morning."  
  
Sydney's expression was hard as she dropped her purse into one of Kendall's chairs. Crossing her arms, she made it clear through her body language that this was not a social visit.  
  
"I have a question for you, Kendall," She began, her voice rife with controlled anger. "When Agent Vaughn asked you two days ago how bad the committee's decision could be, why didn't you tell him?"  
  
Kendall was silent for a moment, his mind working quickly to uncover the source of Sydney's anger. There was a quality of accusation to her tone that unsettled him.  
  
"I didn't care to speculate at that point," Kendall finally replied, hoping to form the answer in a way that would diffuse Sydney's anger.  
  
"No," Sydney snapped. "You didn't tell him because you already knew. And you didn't want to spoil the surprise." Her voice dripped with disgust.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Kendall said, anger beginning to surface. "But if I were you, Ms. Bristow, I'd watch the tone you take with me. I am a senior agent of the CIA."  
  
"Yeah," Sydney's eyes flashed. "A senior agent who sold out one of his own." She exhaled sharply, taking a moment to focus. She didn't want her anger to overshadow the point she felt compelled to make. "You shared your `insight' with the IOC. You knew what their decision would be because you helped them make it."  
  
Kendall swiftly came around the side of his desk to stand nearly toe-to-toe with Sydney. One thing he would not tolerate was a baseless accusation, especially one that hinted at company disloyalty.  
  
"No, I didn't," He said forcefully. "But if you must know, I agree with the decision that was made. And for your own good, you'd better accept it and refocus yourself on your job here. It's time to fall into line."  
  
Sydney was incredulous. "Fall into line?" She echoed, throwing her hands up. "I've been in line for a year and a half, and look what's happened. Playing by the rules has not served me well."  
  
It was Kendall's turn to be incredulous. He leaned back from Sydney, his penetrating eyes hard. "You've been playing by the rules?" He scoffed. "No, I don't think so. Where in the rules does it say that a field agent and her handler should make out in a storage closet in the middle of a sensitive mission?"  
  
Sydney dropped her eyes, her cheeks flaming. The air was leaking out of her anger, leaving her with deep frustration. She turned away from Kendall and went to the window, gazing out at the ops center as dozens of agents worked steadily, oblivious to the drama playing out a few feet away.  
  
"I know I'm the last person on Earth you want to take advice from, Agent Bristow," Kendall's voice softened as he went back around his desk and sat down. "But stop fighting this. I know that's in your nature, to rail against what you see as an injustice, but it's a done deal. The Director of the CIA has signed off on it. Like it or not, Agent Vaughn is going to France."  
  
Sydney closed her eyes, fighting against a fresh wave of sadness. She gripped the metal windowsill with her fingertips to keep her hands from shaking. Her voice was quiet as she spoke, still facing the glass. "I want to know who did it," She said.  
  
Kendall sighed heavily, pulling the Pepto Bismol from his drawer. "Agent Bristow, this is not a personal vendetta. It's a matter of national security. There's no point in trying to fight it," He implored her. After fighting for a moment with the childproof cap, he gave up and set the bottle loudly in the center of his desk, finally reaching his daily frustration limit. He looked up as Sydney turned to face him. "It doesn't make a difference," He told her.  
  
Sydney swallowed hard, holding tears at bay. "It makes a difference to me," She admitted, her eyes dark.  
  
Kendall's brow furrowed as he raised a hand to point at Sydney, wanting to be sure she heard him loud and clear. "You will be back here on Monday morning, and you will be ready to do your job. Is that clear?"  
  
Thankful for the rush of anger that replaced the hollow center of sadness in her chest, Sydney grabbed the Pepto Bismol bottle from Kendall's desk. In one quick movement, she twisted the cap off. After dropping it onto the desktop, she looked into Kendall's eyes and said the words she knew he would not like to hear.  
  
"I want to see my mother."  
  
Irina Derevko was sitting on the floor of her cell, her eyes closed in quiet meditation. The awful sound of the raising metal gates echoed in the hall, disturbing her concentration. She did not open her eyes at first; it wasn't until the unmistakable click of high heels grabbed her attention. Glancing up, she was pleased to find herself looking into the lovely face of her daughter.  
  
"Sydney," Irina said delightedly, quickly getting to her feet. As she came near the thick, bulletproof glass that enclosed her, her expression melted from happiness to concern. There was a sadness in Sydney's eyes that she had not seen before.  
  
"Mom," Sydney said, her smile distant. "Thank you for the flowers."  
  
"You've been crying," Irina said simply. "The news was not good?"  
  
"No," Sydney admitted, lowering her eyes. "The news was horrible."  
  
Sydney told her mother about the committee's decision, spilling the details, including Senator Marchard's reference to the unknown senior CIA agent. When she was finished, the two women stood in silence for several minutes as Sydney struggled with her emotion. Irina just allowed herself to be quiet presence, hoping Sydney could feel how much she wanted to comfort her.  
  
"They're sending him to France, Mom," Sydney finally said, when she felt herself able to speak. A lone tear slipped down her cheek, her eyes shining and wet. "I don't know what to do. I want to fight it, to beg with someone to change it. I mean," Sydney searched for the words as thoughts came hard and fast, her sadness overwhelming her. "Why France? Why not New York? Or Chicago? Why does it have to be France?"  
  
"They want to make it as hard as possible for you to be together," Irina explained gently. "I'm so sorry, Gentle Heart."  
  
The term of endearment caused a fresh rush of tears. "Mom," Sydney moaned, her voice distorted by her tears. "I love him." She fought back a sob, clamping her hand over her mouth.  
  
"I can tell that you do," Irina murmured, wishing she could reach through the glass and stroke Sydney's hair. She felt helpless just watching her daughter's heartache. "What do you want to do about it, Sydney?"  
  
"I don't know," Sydney shook her head, raising her eyes to meet her mother's. When she did, Irina gave her a knowing look, and Sydney sighed, brushing tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Okay, yes, I think I know what I want, but - I just want someone to tell me, to relieve me of the burden of making the choice myself. You'd think it would be easy, but - no."  
  
Irina crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her head and giving Sydney a sympathetic smile. "It's never easy," She agreed. She was silent for a moment, appearing to think hard about the situation. "Is there anyone you can confide in?" Irina finally asked, her eyebrows raised in question.  
  
Sydney shook her head. "No one besides you, and my friend Will," She replied. "But it's such a heavy burden to unload on someone like him. He's trying to live a normal life. There's nothing normal about this situation."  
  
"What about your father?" Irina finally said, her voice bearing traces of something that Sydney couldn't put her finger on.  
  
Sydney looked up quickly, a smile passing over her lips. "I almost forgot," She said, her tone lightening. "On the day I testified, Dad was there when I got done. He and I went out and had dinner, and we sat there for hours. He just listened while I talked, spilling all my feelings about Vaughn and the hearings." Sydney turned from the glass and paced in a short circle, allowing her thoughts to run on their own course before she continued. "I thought later that it was slightly odd, though," She said, stopping and turning back to her mother. "It isn't like Dad to just listen without offering advice and trying to tell me what to do."  
  
Irina tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes searching Sydney's face. "You're right. That's doesn't seem like him," She agreed. She paused for a moment before going on, her tone pensive. "It's almost as if he knew it would be pointless to try to tell you what to do with your relationship with Vaughn."  
  
The hair on the back of Sydney's neck stood up as she met her mother's eyes. Her mother's talent for deduction was uncanny, and Sydney felt as though Irina had yet again uncovered something that would throw her for a loop.  
  
"What do you mean?" Sydney asked carefully.  
  
Irina shrugged. "Why give you advice or try to persuade you on an issue that with the committee's decision becomes a moot point?"  
  
Sydney drew in a sharp breath as pain rocked her once again, sending her off balance, her mind spinning. It was so obvious, she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it herself. Tears surfaced yet again as Sydney lifted her hands to her face, disbelief twisting her sadness into shock.  
  
"It was Dad," Sydney said simply, finally meeting her mother's eyes. "He's the senior CIA agent. I should've known that," She shook her head.  
  
"I'm sure he was trying to help you," Irina offered, knowing it sounded hollow.  
  
"I don't need his help," Sydney interjected, anger bubbling up from deep within. She checked it quickly, not wanting to take anything out on her mother that was rightfully deserved by her father.  
  
"No, you don't," Irina agreed. She came close to the glass, locking her gaze with Sydney's. "Your heart knows what decision to make."  
  
Sydney blinked hard, washing away her few remaining tears. "Yes," She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It does."  
  
The next moments were spent in silence, mother and daughter separated by thick glass but closer than they had ever been. After a while, Sydney murmured a goodbye and turned to leave. She stopped when her mother called out her name.  
  
Sydney turned to see her mother with her hand pressed to the glass, her eyes imploring her daughter to return. Sydney walked quickly back, lifting her hand to match her mother's, both of them pressing on opposite sides.  
  
Irina spoke, her voice soft, her eyes full of hope. "I will see you again."  
  
Sydney nodded, her mother's message not going unheard. Slowly peeling her hand from the glass, Sydney turned and walked away. Irina waited until the metal gates had once again slid into place and until she couldn't hear Sydney's high heels any longer before she pulled her hand back from the glass and returned to her meditation in the middle of the floor.  
  
Walking into the lobby of the CIA's downtown Los Angeles office, Sydney knew she was taking a risk. Standing in line to go through the security checks, she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping desperately that no one from SD-6 Security Section had seen her. That would be all it would take to cause her whole reason for being there to completely unravel.  
  
The guard at the security desk looked up and smiled broadly. "Good afternoon, Agent Bristow," He said happily. He had always been kind to her, especially in the early days when she had been so unsure of herself.  
  
"Hi, Charles," Sydney said pleasantly, handing him her credentials before dropping her purse into a bin to be passed through the security x-ray.  
  
"We haven't see you around here in a while," Charles handed back her I.D., his dark eyes teasing. "Are you slumming today?"  
  
Sydney couldn't help but smile. "Something like that," She nodded, accepting her purse from Charles after it reached the other side of the machine. They waved to each other before Sydney walked off toward the bank of elevators on the other side of the lobby. Crossing over the large CIA seal inlaid into the tile floor, she sighed. Even thought it was many months since she'd first made that fateful walk, the memories were still as fresh as if it had just happened hours ago.  
  
Reaching the elevators, Sydney paused, her finger hovering near the "Up" button. She knew where she wanted to go and whom she wanted to see, but she also knew whom she didn't want to see. Running into Devlin would be a mistake she couldn't afford to make. Making a hasty choice, Sydney boarded the first available elevator and headed up to the seventh floor where the employee cafeteria and break room were located. Once there, she ducked inside the women's bathroom and grabbed her cell phone from her purse.  
  
A few minutes later and a few floors up, Vaughn left Devlin's office with his official reassignment documents in hand. He walked slowly down the hall, reading them over, his mind distracted. He'd been given two weeks to get his personal belongings in order and get ready to move to Paris. All he could concentrate on, however, was how to fill those two weeks with nothing but being with Sydney. It was something he never thought he'd have to face, and the sheer thought of it was overwhelming him. He'd never been so tired in his entire life.  
  
Vaughn made it into Weiss's office, dismayed to find it empty. His desk lamp was still burning, indicating he would return, so Vaughn dropped into one of the chairs in front of the large cherry wood desk. He slapped the papers down on Weiss's blotter and picked up one of the small model planes near the computer, spinning the tiny propeller with his finger.  
  
"Hey, buddy," Weiss suddenly appeared in the doorway. He was carrying a can of diet Coke and a bag of nacho cheese Doritos. "I was just down in the break room-"  
  
"They're sending me to France," Vaughn declared, setting the plane back down. He stared down at this hands as Weiss stopped halfway between his door and the desk, munching quietly on a Dorito.  
  
"I know, man," Weiss admitted. Vaughn looked up, his eyebrows raised.  
  
"How?"  
  
Weiss set the beverage and chips on his desktop before poking his head out into the hallway. He took a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear before turning back to Vaughn. Vaughn was puzzled by this, but he didn't say anything. He just watched as Weiss took his seat behind the desk, his eyes bright.  
  
"Vaughn," He said, his tone low and conspiratorial. "Our favorite red head was just here."  
  
It took Vaughn a minute to catch his meaning, but when he did, he sat straight up in the chair, his eyes wide. "Syd?" He whispered, leaning in towards Weiss.  
  
Weiss smiled and nodded, reaching into his breast pocket. "She wanted me to give you this." He handed Vaughn a folded slip of paper and then sat back, satisfied that he had fulfilled his end of the mission.  
  
Vaughn glanced once at Weiss's face before opening the piece of paper. Written on it were two small, simple words that would change his life forever: LET'S GO.  
  
******  
  
A/N: Sorry it has taken so long for this chapter. It was a difficult one to write, as I wanted to make sure I had it just right. Many thanks to the music of Eva Cassidy (especially "Songbird"), Pop-Ice popsicles and my Alias screensaver (with theme music!) for helping me get through. 


	7. Come Away With Me

Chapter Seven: Come Away With Me  
  
The weather could not have been more perfect. The afternoon sky was powder blue and peppered with peaceful, fluffy clouds as the sun warmed everything it touched, including Will Tippin's smiling face as he reclined in a beach chair, a good book in hand. He had just propped the book open on his stomach and taken a sip of lemonade when a gorgeous brunette appeared, hovering over him with a pleasant smile and a bottle of massage oil.  
  
"Will," She cooed, her voice low and soothing. Will was startled, but he quickly recovered, putting the book aside.  
  
"Hey," He said, putting on his best smile. "I know you from somewhere."  
  
"Will," She said again, her voice imploring as she held up the bottle and wiggled it.  
  
Will's eyes traveled the length of her sun-tanned, bikini-clad body. "I swear I know you from somewhere," He looked up into her eyes and then grinned. "Your voice sounds so familiar."  
  
"Will. C'mon, Will," The woman coaxed, more insistent this time. She bent over and reached out to Will, her hand moist with massage oil. As she began to rub his chest, Will let out a low moan.  
  
"Oh, that's nice," He said, his eyes squeezing closed as his body flooded with contentment. The woman suddenly grabbed Will's arm and shook it, her grip tighter than what he considered comfortable. "Hey!" Will protested.  
  
The woman brought her face close to Will's ear. "Will," She pleaded. "Will, you need to wake up."  
  
Will's eyes sprang open and he suddenly found himself far away from the beach chair, the sunny afternoon and the good book with a glass of lemonade. As Will came back to his senses and realized that he had been asleep and dreaming, he knew that the dark figure next to his bed should not be there. Will drew back against his pillows and did the first thing that came to mind. He screamed.  
  
Sydney Bristow sat quickly on the edge of the bed and leaned in, gently grasping Will's shoulders. "Will," She said soothingly, her mouth curving into a smile. "That's the second time in our friendship that the sight of me has made you scream. If you do it again, you'll give me a complex."  
  
"Oh, my god," Will sputtered, relieved. "I'm sorry, Syd, I was just - I was having this amazing dream," He smiled, enjoying the memory.  
  
Sydney snickered. "I heard you moan. Trust me when I say I don't want to know the details."  
  
Will bunched his pillow up behind him and sat up straight, blinking hard to clear the last of sleep from his eyes. He glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table and raised his eyebrows in surprise.  
  
"Syd, it's two-thirty in the morning," He said. "Why did you wake me up?"  
  
Sydney sighed and reached for one of Will's hands. "I'm leaving, Will," She said simply. "The committee made their decision, and it wasn't good."  
  
Will's eyes were wide. "They're sending him overseas, aren't they?" When Sydney nodded, Will hung his head and sighed. He looked up suddenly, his eyes troubled. "How long will you be gone?"  
  
Sydney swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. "I don't know," She answered honestly. "It could be a long time."  
  
"Until SD-6 goes down," Will guessed, waiting for Sydney to concur. When she said nothing, he pulled back from her, withdrawing his hand. "What are you saying, Syd? That I might never see you again?" He couldn't help the flash of anger that shone in his eyes.  
  
Seeing this, Sydney jumped in quickly. "Will, I can't promise anything, but if there's a way-"  
  
"This sucks, Sydney," Will interrupted her, his voice strong with truth. "SD-6 has ruined your life in more ways than anyone can count. And now, for the second time, they're ruining mine. And hey, what about Francie, Syd? She doesn't know the truth. All she's gonna know is that her best friend is gone without a trace, and no one seems to know how or why."  
  
Sydney couldn't fight the tears any longer; they filled her eyes, blurring Will's face before finally spilling down her cheeks.  
  
"I know, Will, I know," She said, her voice choked with tears. "This is the hardest decision I've ever made. I don't want to leave you, or Francie, or my dad," She paused as a sob escaped, the next words the hardest to say. "Or my mom."  
  
Will's hard expression melted as his heart broke for her. He leaned forward and quietly pulled Sydney into his arms, embracing her tightly as she cried on his shoulder.  
  
"I didn't mean to upset you, Syd," Will said when they parted, Sydney wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's just the impact that this is going to have on the people left behind," His voice trailed off, suddenly aware that he couldn't find words adequate enough for what he was feeling. He let the silence speak for itself.  
  
Sydney stared down at her hands until she was sure her emotions were in check. When she raised her head and met Will's eyes, her voice came in a whisper that was fierce with conviction. "You're right, Will," She said. "SD-6 has ruined my life. But the CIA gave it back when they gave me Michael Vaughn."  
  
Will couldn't help the pang of jealousy that gripped him suddenly like a hand around his heart. His brow furrowed and he lowered his eyes, trying to appear distracted by a hole he had found in the blanket as his fingers clutched the thin brushed cotton material.  
  
"You love him," Will managed, his voice distant.  
  
Sydney knew what Will's feelings were. She knew that he had tried to champion her cause and had tried to be a cheerleader for her and Vaughn, but now, faced with the possibility of never seeing her again, he was torn. She reached out and placed a hand on top of Will's, catching his fingers between her own.  
  
"I do, Will," Sydney replied. "But that doesn't change what you mean to me."  
  
"I wish I meant what Vaughn meant," Will blurted, surprising himself. He met Sydney's eyes again and was instantly sorry. He apologized quickly. "Syd, I didn't want to throw that on the heap of things you've got on your mind right now."  
  
"It's okay," Sydney assured him, squeezing his hand. She smiled, and they sat in silence for a few moments more, both of them unsure exactly how to say goodbye. Finally, Sydney spoke again, pulling her hand from Will's as she reached into the pocket of her black pants. "Can you give this to Francie for me?"  
  
Will accepted the folded sheet of paper and knew what it was by the weight and feel of it. "Do you want me to be there with her while she reads it?"  
  
"She'll need you, Will, when she learns the truth," Sydney nodded, her eyes troubled. "I struggled with that, whether or not to tell her. But I don't want her getting crazy over me being gone, thinking I've been kidnapped or murdered or something," She shook her head. "And the paper-"  
  
"Dissolve it in water when she's finished," Will interjected, reaching over to slip the letter into the top drawer of the bedside table. "I know the drill."  
  
Sydney thanked him, then grew serious, her eyes searching his to make sure he understood. "Will, people may come around asking about me," She told him. "You've got to be certain that you and Francie understand that you have to claim complete ignorance. If they think you know anything, they'll do whatever they can to find out what it is."  
  
Will instinctively reached up and rubbed his jaw, his tongue poking into the space left behind when his tooth was violently extracted. His eyes flashed in anger as the memories invaded his mind. He was helpless to stop them.  
  
"I understand," He said, looking away. "I'll make Francie understand. I'll show her my mouth. You know how afraid she is of the dentist." Will smiled as Sydney chuckled, a smile brightening her tear stained face.  
  
"I'll miss you, Will," Sydney reached out to lightly touch his face, her fingers grazing his cheek. Will smiled back at her, though his blue eyes were sad. He echoed her words, wanting to add that he already missed her, but he held back, knowing this was hard enough on Sydney as it was. She stood up from the bed and Will did, too, freeing himself from a tangle of bed sheets. Sydney and Will embraced, holding each other tight.  
  
Will had a million questions swarming his head, things he wanted to know, plans he wanted to be let in on. There was a part of him that wondered how Sydney could do this, just pick up and go, leave her life behind. But there was another part of him that knew her life here was not the ideal one she had planned before SD-6 and the CIA. Everything that had happened since Danny had been killed was by someone else's design, a life that was scheduled on another person's agenda. Sydney had wanted no part of it, but she had played along, immersing herself into the fray to right old wrongs and give her future a fighting chance. And now she was cashing in, taking back what was hers and leaving before it was too late to get out alive.  
  
Will could find no fault in this. He knew only a small portion of the sacrifice she given, and he could only wonder how she had managed to put up with it for so long. Thinking about it that way, he could see how leaving seemed to be the best, and only, choice to make.  
  
"I understand," Will suddenly said, pulling back from Sydney. They'd been hugging for at least five minutes, holding on to each other with the intensity only a strong friendship could generate. Sydney searched his eyes, and he nodded. "You have a life you want to live, and you have every right," He knew she would not miss what he meant as he continued. "You've already paid your dues."  
  
Sydney's eyes were wet again as she withdrew from Will, her heart aching. "Thank you, Will, for everything," She said. "After Danny, you were strong for me, and I appreciate that. And once you learned the truth, you stuck by me-"  
  
"You saved my life," Will reminded her emphatically. "How could I not stick by you? Syd, you're my best friend." He watched helplessly as Sydney turned away, tears threatening to fall. She went towards the bedroom door where she had left her two suitcases, large black soft side bags filled with as much of her life as it was safe to carry.  
  
Bending to pick up the bags, Sydney tried to force a smile, tried to pretend that this wasn't tearing her apart. She turned back to Will wearing a brave face. "I've gotta go," She said, her voice faltering.  
  
Will came to her side, his own eyes shining. "Syd, one more thing," He said. "About a year ago, before I knew anything, there was one day when you were leaving for what Francie and I thought was yet another business trip. We gave you static about it, telling you to quit your stupid job, and you got angry. You told us that if we really knew what you did for a living, we'd thank you." Will rested his hands on Sydney's shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes. "Syd," He said. "Thank you."  
  
Sydney's face crumpled as she dissolved into tears, dropping her bags to throw her arms around Will's neck. "I will see you again," She breathed, pressing her lips to Will's cheek for a goodbye kiss. He returned it and then helped her with her bags before opening the bedroom door.   
  
They stood and looked at each other for a moment, then Sydney finally said goodbye. "I've arranged for someone to come and box up my things to go into storage," She said, whispering so she wouldn't wake Francie. "But tell Francie she can go through my leftover clothes and take what she wants. And you can raid my CD collection."  
  
"I've told you before, I don't like Yanni," Will couldn't resist a last minute dig, and the two of them laughed quietly, standing in the hallway. Will squeezed Sydney's arm. "Be safe, Syd. I'll see you soon." He smiled, hoping for truth in that statement. Sydney smiled back and left the hallway, heading for the front room and the front door as behind her Will went back into his room and closed the door.  
  
Sydney paused in the living room to take a framed photo of herself with Will and Francie, looking at it sadly for a moment before sliding it into the side pocket of one of her bags. She then picked them up again and was just about to the front door when she heard a soft, sleepy voice behind her.  
  
"Syd?"  
  
Sydney turned to see Francie in the kitchen doorway, wrapped in a robe, a glass of water in her hand.  
  
"Fran," Sydney said, startled. "What are you doing up?"  
  
"I was thirsty," Francie raised the glass of water as her brow furrowed, her face wearing an expression of concern. "What are you doing?" She looked Sydney from head to toe, taking in the sight of her dressed in all black, her long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She noticed the bags and sighed. "Oh, Syd, are you going out of town again?"  
  
Sydney's voice caught on the lump in her throat. "Yeah," She finally managed. "Another trip."  
  
Francie shook her head, her countless complaints about Sydney's job not needing repetition. Instead, she walked towards her friend and slid an arm around her, pulling Sydney into a hug.  
  
"Have a safe trip," She said, squeezing Sydney's shoulders. "I'll see you when you get back."  
  
"Yeah," Sydney breathed, holding Francie tight. "I'll see you."  
  
Francie pulled back and smiled at Sydney, seeming not to notice the tears rimming her best friend's eyes. She turned back towards the kitchen, returning to her glass of water. Sydney watched her for a moment before turning her eyes to the rest of the room, her mind memorizing the house and the memories contained within its four walls. Sniffing silently, Sydney picked up her bags once more and walked out, the door closing on her life with a final, quiet click.  
  
Jack Bristow sat in front of his flickering TV set pondering the dichotomy between being too tired to read and yet not tired enough to go to sleep.  
  
He had tossed and turned in bed for nearly two hours, catching mere minutes of sleep at a time before waking with wide eyes and an over-active mind. Sitting up against the headboard, he had reached for a book he kept at the bedside and turned on the lamp. It wasn't long, however, before the letters forming each word on the page melted into nothing but small squares of black ink and he, feeling even more restless than before, was forced to return the book to its place.  
  
Jack had gotten out of bed and wandered the house, tightening the sash on his deep blue silk robe as he checked the windows and doors, a common practice when he couldn't sleep. At the end of this routine, he stopped by the kitchen for a bite of leftover Chinese take-out before continuing on to the living room to sit down in front of the TV.  
  
Jack had never considered himself a TV watcher; he preferred books when choosing visual entertainment. But that night, as sleep proved elusive, he settled into the couch with the remote in one hand and a bottle of Evian in the other. His interest in an infomercial for tub and tile cleaner was just beginning to grow when he heard a key in the front door, followed by the beep of the keypad as his alarm system was disarmed.  
  
Rising from the couch, Jack muted the TV and then turned to walk into the front entry. He was halfway there when he met Sydney in the hallway; she appeared to be startled at the sight of him.  
  
"You look dressed for a burglary," Jack observed, giving his daughter the once over. "Were you hoping I'd be asleep?"  
  
Sydney squared her shoulders, her expression even. "It doesn't matter," She said. "I was going to wake you." The sight of her father brought on a rush of feelings, ones she had pushed away earlier in the day. The memory of being outside her mother's cell and realizing her father had betrayed her forced anger to the front of the line. "We need to talk."  
  
Jack had grown adept over the last year and a half at reading his daughter's eyes; he was surprised to see a flame in them now. He was expecting sadness or despair, but only because he had spent the day convincing himself Sydney couldn't know the one thing that would cause her to get angry in the midst of all that was happening. He was about to find out that he was wrong.  
  
Jack unwittingly opened the floodgates himself. "Speaking of talk, I heard you had a rather heated discussion with Kendall."  
  
"Yes, I did," Sydney said, following her father as he started down the hall, turning lights on as he went. When they reached the large, airy kitchen, Sydney stopped by the center island and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
Jack opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of mineral water before moving to the cabinet to pull down two drinking glasses. "You think he said something to the committee to influence their decision to send Vaughn to France."  
  
As Jack began to pour the beverages, Sydney narrowed her eyes at him as she fought to stay in control. It was obvious to her that her father was not going to simply own up to what he had done; his decision to treat it lightly only fanned her anger to flame.  
  
"That's what I used to think," Sydney said coolly, her eyes never leaving Jack's face as he set a glass of water in front of her. "But now I know," She went on, her voice rising slightly. "Kendall didn't say anything to the committee. It was you."  
  
The kitchen was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator as Sydney's accusation hung in the air between her and her father. Jack didn't respond at first; he simply looked into his water glass as if something would appear inside it to tell him how to best handle this situation. Nothing did, so he decided to go with his first instinct and react with indignation.  
  
"Do you honestly believe," He began, his voice low and controlled. "That I have the kind of power it would take to influence the Intelligence Oversight Committee?" He met Sydney's eyes, his expression stoic, his mouth a hard line.  
  
Sydney pointed at her father, her finger dotting the air to mark emphasis on her words. "I don't know how you did it, I just know that you did. It's just like before, when you tried to keep me from my mother. Only this time, you're trying to keep me from Vaughn." Sydney paused, breathing deeply to keep her emotions in control. "What hurts me the most about it, though, is that every time I think we've made progress in our relationship, you do something like this. We take three steps forward and you shove us one giant step back."  
  
Jack's grip on the water glass was so tight he was afraid he would shatter it. He set it on the countertop and let several moments of silence pass, collecting his thoughts and allowing Sydney some time to cool down. Her eyes never left his face as she waited for him to speak.  
  
"Sydney," Jack said, his expression softening. "I'm trying to protect you."  
  
The words had barely left his mouth before Sydney pounced upon them. "From what?" She demanded. "A second chance at love? My first chance at a real life?" She threw her hands up, exasperated. "Dad, I don't need to be protected anymore. I need to be happy."  
  
"This won't lead to happiness," Jack interjected, his eyes hard. "Trust me on this."  
  
"Why?" Sydney asked. "Why should I trust you? Because you think you've gone through this? This is completely different from your experience." She turned away from him then, shaking her head as thoughts came hard and fast. When she was able to face him again, her expression was a mix of pity and contempt. "Please don't try to reverse your failures through me. And don't ever try to come between me and my future."  
  
Jack pulled back, wounded by her words. His failure, his marriage to Irina, was a scar he would bear for life, one that was vulnerable. Sydney had zeroed in on it and taken a cheap shot. Jack knew she only wanted to knick him, to make him bleed a little as a penance for what he'd done, but his pride wouldn't allow him to excuse it.  
  
"A future of what?" He demanded loudly. "Hiding? Running for your lives? Living out of suitcases, never knowing where you'll sleep each night?" Jack didn't back down, even when Sydney's wide eyes made it obvious he'd hit a nerve. "Sydney, how is it wrong that I am trying to shelter you from that hardship?"  
  
Fighting with her emotions, Sydney took a step closer to her father, balling her hands into fists as she struggled with the words that would make him understand what this meant to her.  
  
"Did you stop to think, Dad, that this may be a hardship that I want?" She questioned. "This is the first decision in a long time that I alone have the power to make, and I won't let you steal it from me, like you did with so many choices in my life." Sydney couldn't hold back the hot tears that sprang to her eyes. "I don't need you to shelter me, Dad. In fact, I don't need anything from you. I can take care of myself. You've seen to that."  
  
The truth of those words struck Jack like a blow. He turned away, unable to stand to see Sydney cry. He knew, too often, he was the source of those tears. It was the worst pain a father could know, seeing his daughter cry and knowing he was the cause.  
  
Jack picked up his water glass and carried it to the sink. Pouring the liquid down the drain, he spoke, his voice bearing none of its previous strength. "Your clothes, the fact that it's three a.m.- I can gather from this that you're leaving tonight."  
  
Sydney nodded, sniffing quietly. "Yes, we are. I wanted to let you know so that you wouldn't think something had happened to me. But you understand I can't tell you anything, for your own safety. I'm sure you'll be the first person Security Section pulls in for questioning."  
  
"Speaking of SD-6," Jack said, turning back to face his daughter as he slid his hands into the pockets of his robe. "What about your job there? Your mission to dismantle it and take down Arvin Sloane?"  
  
The question hung in the air for a long while before Sydney felt strong enough to answer it. She came towards her father, her eyes imploring.  
  
"When I lost Danny," She sighed as fresh tears fell. "Everything went away. All I had was my hatred for SD-6 and Sloane - it was the only thing that pushed me through the pain, that got me up each morning," Sydney paused, her eyes shining. "But over the past year and a half, little by little, piece by piece, everything that was gone has come back," She smiled softly. "I don't get up in the morning for SD-6 anymore, Dad. I get up for Vaughn."  
  
A half-hour later, Sydney left her father's house, her cheek still warm from the feel of his silk robe against her face, the parting hug they'd shared one that would not leave her memory for quite some time.  
  
Meanwhile, at the warehouse, Vaughn was pacing, making long, slow circles within the chain-link fence. Nearby, Weiss was sitting on the bench, watching. At about Vaughn's tenth pass, Weiss held up his hands.  
  
"Dude, seriously, you have to stop," He said, shattering the eerie silence in the vast, empty space. "I don't think it's possible to wear a hole in concrete, but if you keep it up, you might prove me wrong."  
  
Vaughn stopped abruptly, exhaling sharply and running a hand through his hair. "She's late," He said, glancing at his watch. "It's almost four. We're going to lose our advantage if daybreaks before we get a good start."  
  
Weiss stood up as Vaughn faced him, his brow knit with worry. "Mike, she'll be here," Weiss assured him. "She's not going to bail on you, man."  
  
"She was going to see her father," Vaughn put in, his voice laced with concern. "I hope he didn't talk her out of it."  
  
"Can anyone really talk Sydney out of anything?" Weiss scoffed, his mouth curling into a smile. "She's not going to change her mind. I personally don't know what she sees in you, but apparently she's quite smitten." He ducked as Vaughn took a play swipe at him.  
  
"You're just jealous," Vaughn smiled and poked his finger at his friend.  
  
Weiss was incredulous. "What? I'm jealous?" He questioned teasingly. "Oh yeah, cuz there's so much to be jealous of. Hey - maybe I can get myself a girlfriend who dyes her hair with cherry Kool-Aid."  
  
Vaughn couldn't help but chuckle at this, shaking his head. "How many times do I have to tell you? It was a wig!"  
  
"Yeah, well," Weiss laughed, waving Vaughn away with his hand. "She looked like the bride of Frankenberry."  
  
The warehouse echoed with laughter as the two friends cracked themselves up, Vaughn's nerves calming as he allowed himself to relax with his best friend. They both slumped back on the bench, sighing as the remains of laughter slipped away. When it was quiet again, they simply sat there, both of them thinking but neither one saying that it would be a long time before they'd be that way again.  
  
Vaughn checked his watch again, dismayed to find that it was nearly four- thirty. He was about to use his cell phone when footsteps sounded a few feet away and Sydney suddenly appeared in the small circle of light given off by the sparse overhead lights. When their eyes met, time stood still for a moment until Vaughn finally moved to sweep Sydney into his arms. Their lips met and locked in a deep kiss as they forgave each other for the hours they'd spent apart leading up to this life-changing event.  
  
Weiss stood awkwardly, not knowing whether to walk away or stay, to look away or stare at the embrace that seemed it might go on for days.  
  
"Uhm, hey," Weiss finally said when the couple showed no signs of stopping. "We're kind of up against the clock here." He took a couple steps back, finally realizing that he was going to go unnoticed. Dropping back onto the bench, Weiss sighed. "You know," He said to no one in particular. "I think I'll get some business cards made up. They'll say `Eric Weiss: Professional Fifth Wheel'. What do you think?"  
  
Finally parting, Sydney gripped Vaughn's shirt as she caught her breath. "Hi," She said, her eyes shining.  
  
"Hi," Vaughn said back, smiling gently. He searched Sydney's face, then asked the question that had been pulling at his heart all day. "Are you sure?"  
  
Sydney nodded before answering, her voice full of conviction. "I've never been more sure," She said. She turned to Weiss. "What's the plan?"  
  
Within the hour, Vaughn and Sydney had loaded their bags into the back of a rental car Weiss had gotten them under an assumed name. He had come through for them in several other ways, as well, impressing them with his quick work with false documents such as driver's licenses, Social Security cards and passports.  
  
When the time came to say goodbye, neither Sydney nor Vaughn could find the proper words to thank Weiss for putting himself at risk to help them out. He simply waved them on, assuring them he would see them soon. He told Vaughn to keep his cell phone on, to be careful, and to take good care of his "favorite Kool-Aid Kid".  
  
"What did Weiss mean by that?" Sydney asked, watching Weiss's reflection in the car's side mirror as they drove away.  
  
Vaughn just smiled, watching ahead of him as he steered the car onto the main roads, the headlights laying out the path before them. He reached over and ran his hand lovingly through Sydney's ponytail, the soft, chestnut colored strands slipping between his fingers.  
  
"Nothing," Vaughn said finally, sliding his arm around Sydney's shoulder. She scooted as close to him as the seatbelt would allow, a contented warmth spreading through her body.  
  
Sydney let her head fall back against the seat, her eyelids suddenly very heavy. Vaughn turned on the radio, selecting a music station to play quietly as he settled in behind the wheel. The steady rhythm of the song and the moving car started to lull Sydney to sleep, and she pressed her cheek to Vaughn's shoulder, her voice a sleepy murmur as she spoke the words Vaughn had waited a lifetime to hear.  
  
"I love you, Michael."  
  
******  
  
A/N: There is more to come - hope you're enjoying it so far. Thanks again for the kind reviews. 


	8. The Nearness of You

Chapter Eight: The Nearness of You  
  
As Sydney Bristow slowly surfaced from a deep ocean of sleep, she became aware that she was cold, her toes icy beneath the blankets. Searching for warmth, she scooted towards the center of the bed, hoping for a warm body to press against. Dismayed and surprised to find herself alone, Sydney opened her eyes a little, squinting against the sunlight that poured into the bedroom.  
  
"Vaughn?" She asked, her voice weak from sleep. Sitting up a little, she tugged on the sheet and blanket until they were bunched up around her, tucked under her legs. She considered getting up and putting on some clothes, but that would mean she'd have to leave the bed and the little bit of warmth she had left.  
  
Sydney looked around the small room, her eyes falling on the rustic furniture and Native American-themed decor. She had often wondered what the inside of a log cabin looked like and had been delighted to see that this one resembled the images inside her head. It was full of character, something right from the pages of a wilderness magazine.  
  
"Vaughn!" Sydney called again, louder this time. She heard movement in the next room followed by footsteps in the hall. The door opened and Vaughn entered the room in nothing but his boxer shorts, his teeth chattering as he quickly dove for the bed.  
  
"Sorry," He said, grabbing at the blanket. "I know it's cold. The fire went out in the middle of the night."  
  
Sydney watched Vaughn slide under an edge of the covers, pulling the blanket from around her legs. Speaking of the fire, she said matter-of- factly, "You have to get up a couple of times and stoke it."  
  
"Stoke?" Vaughn echoed, smiling as he settled back against his pillow, pulling the sheet up to his chin. "Listen to you with the technical terms. I'm impressed."  
  
"Technical?" Sydney scoffed, snuggling against Vaughn's chest as he drew her into his arms. "Hardly. I've been hiking a few times, but as far as the wilderness stuff, I really don't know much."   
  
Vaughn was amused. "Really? Then why do we call you `Mountaineer'?"  
  
Sydney couldn't suppress a laugh. "Hey, you're the one who should know this stuff," She said pointedly. "You're `Boy Scout', remember?"  
  
Vaughn nodded, waiting until Sydney's chuckles abated. "Funny," He told her sarcastically. He slipped his arm around Sydney's waist. "So our fire went out during the night. I seem to recall I was a little too busy to remember to stoke it."  
  
Something about that phrase deeply amused Sydney, and a deep belly laugh escaped her lips. Vaughn was fascinated by it and waited for her to finish, her giggles tapering off before he reached up to rest his hand on her cheek.  
  
"I love that," He breathed before placing a gentle kiss on her mouth.  
  
Sydney pulled back a bit, puzzled. "Love what?" She asked.  
  
"Your laughter," Vaughn replied, trailing a fingertip across her lips. "I hope I'll be hearing a lot more of it." He kissed her again, holding her tight with one hand while using the other to pull the blanket closer around his body. Sydney grabbed the edge of it and tugged, her face breaking into a wide, mischievous grin.  
  
"Hey," She teased. "You're taking more than your share."  
  
"Am not," Vaughn insisted, smiling himself as he yanked at the covers, leaving Sydney naked from the waist up. She gasped and sat up, stifling a laugh as she lunged at him, gripping the bed sheet in her fists.  
  
"Are too!" She said, emphasizing each word with a pull on the blanket.  
  
"Am not!" Vaughn pulled right back. The game was now on, the stage set for competition.  
  
As Vaughn reached towards her to get a better hold on the bed covers, Sydney deflected him with her pillow, whapping him upside the head. He groaned playfully and rolled back onto the mattress, leaving the sheet and blanket fair game. Sydney swiftly scooped them up and then leapt out of bed and out of Vaughn's way as he lunged forward once again.  
  
Sydney wrapped the covers around herself, securing them just under her arms, tucking the ends in like she would a towel after a bath. Smiling smugly at Vaughn, her eyes dared him to come after her and continue the game. He kneeled on the mattress, folding his hands and shaking his head as he smiled.  
  
"I bet you never imagined when you took martial arts training that it would come in handy when playing bedroom games," He said. "You can now consider yourself a super spy and a master sheet stealer."  
  
"Hmmm," Sydney pretended to mull this over. "Master sheet stealer. I like that," She suddenly raised her arms and struck a strongman pose, flexing her biceps while grinning victoriously. She was taken completely by surprise when the bed covers came untucked, dropping to the floor around her ankles and leaving her completely naked.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Vaughn cheered. "That's what I'm talkin' about!" He moved to the edge of the bed and then grabbed Sydney around the waist, pulling her back onto the mattress. She screamed playfully, resisting him half- heartedly in an attempt to keep up the game. But it was no longer as fun as letting him kiss her, something he was doing now with an intensity that warmed them both, rendering the bed covers unnecessary.  
  
A little more than two hours later, after Sydney and Vaughn had bathed and dressed, they stood in the kitchen together, gazing into the freezer. The refrigerator was empty, the cabin having been unused for some time. But in the freezer there were several items wrapped in unmarked aluminum foil and two bags of frozen peas.  
  
"We could have peas," Vaughn offered, trying to be helpful.  
  
Sydney groaned, rubbing her stomach. "I'm hungry, but not for peas," She said, frowning. "What's in those packages of foil?"  
  
"I don't know," Vaughn grimaced, removing one from the freezer shelf and turning it over in his hands. "I don't know if I want to open it and find out. When Weiss calls, I'll ask him."  
  
"I can't wait that long," Sydney protested, reaching past Vaughn and moving a few things around on the freezer shelf. "Maybe they've got something hidden in the back, like a box of waffles or Pop-Tarts."  
  
Vaughn looked at her sideways. "Who keeps Pop-Tarts in the freezer?"  
  
"The same people who have electricity and a water heater but not a furnace," Sydney shivered, her damp hair giving her chills. Neither one of them had packed a hairdryer nor had they been able to locate one anywhere inside the cabin.  
  
Vaughn closed the freezer door. "Go sit by the fire," He coaxed, steering Sydney in that direction. "I'll keep looking. Maybe there are some canned goods in the pantry."  
  
Sydney did as she was told, feeling the temperature in the hallway rising steadily the closer she got to the living room. Once she was there, she walked over and sat down on the wide brick hearth, her back to the fire. She shook out her hair and looked around, noting that the cabin looked the same in the daylight as it had the night before, but perhaps a little less romantic.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn had reached the log cabin, owned by Weiss' family, close to midnight after driving north through California before finally ending up in the Oregon wilderness. Although it hadn't been used much in the past year, Weiss knew the bed sheets and towels were clean and the cabin would be comfortable for one night as long as they lit a fire. Vaughn had done just that soon after they had arrived and hauled their bags in from the car.  
  
Sydney stirred from her quiet reflection to put another log on the blaze, watching the sparks disappear up the chimney as the other, half-consumed logs settled in under the weight of the new one. She turned to see Vaughn come into the room carrying two bowls of what appeared to be soup.  
  
"Chicken noodle," Vaughn explained, handing one to Sydney. She brought the bowl close to her face and inhaled the aroma.  
  
"It's not what I had in mind for breakfast," She confessed, accepting a spoon as Vaughn handed it over. "But as long as it's warm, I don't care."  
  
"The microwave works," Vaughn nodded. "It's warm."  
  
The couple settled onto the couch and began to eat, their hunger seeming to grow with each bite they took. Dinner the night before had been potato chips and peanut butter crackers they'd bought from vending machines at a highway rest stop.  
  
Sydney had to admit to herself that so far, the trip had been almost fun. With rest stops and a log cabin, she was able to pretend, albeit briefly, that this was just a lovers' holiday. Thoughts to the contrary were pushed out and compartmentalized as soon as they appeared on her mind's horizon. As she ate her breakfast, she tried to concentrate solely on the good things: the warm fire, the tasty soup, and most importantly, Vaughn.  
  
Vaughn finished his soup first and set the empty bowl on the coffee table before getting to his feet and wandering over to a bookcase across the room. He perused the titles, pausing every once in a while to pull a book out and flip through its pages before returning it and continuing on. After a little while of this, he had reached the bottom shelf and suddenly let out a burst of laughter.  
  
Sydney looked up from the empty soup bowl she cradled in her lap, absorbing the last of its warmth with her fingers. "What?" She asked.  
  
Vaughn pulled a photo album from the bookshelf, grinning. "It's Weiss's baby book," He said, his eyes gleaming. "This is gonna be good." Vaughn came back to the couch and opened the album on his lap. Sydney leaned into his shoulder to get a good look. The first page was a copy of Weiss's birth certificate. Vaughn was about to turn to the second page when his cell phone rang, startling them both.  
  
Vaughn handed the book to Sydney and reached into his pocket for the phone. After answering, he laughed heartily. "We're fine," He said. "Thanks for asking. That reminds me - why didn't you tell me your middle name was Eugene?"  
  
Sydney couldn't hear the other side of the call, but she was sure that Weiss was not happy that Vaughn now had this piece of information. She just smiled and turned pages in the book, her heart warming as she came across photos of Weiss with his first haircut, his first lost tooth, his first Halloween. She lost herself in the memories as Vaughn carried on the conversation beside her, getting vital information for their escape.  
  
When the phone call ended, Vaughn turned to Sydney and smiled, watching as she reached the end of the album, her expression wistful. Vaughn reached out to her and swept a strand of hair back from her face.  
  
"What?" He asked softly, sensing there was something behind her eyes.  
  
Sydney just shook her head and handed the book back to Vaughn. "What did Weiss have to say?"  
  
"He said that the picture of him in the bathtub was taken against his will," Vaughn joked, chuckling. Sydney smiled and shook her head. She knew she would miss Weiss's sharp sense of humor. Vaughn got up off the couch and returned the book to the shelf. "He also said," He went on. "We need to drive to Seattle. He gave me a number to a locker in the airport that will have plane tickets and credit cards in our new names and also a new cell phone, one that Weiss claims is untraceable."  
  
"I believe it," Sydney said, getting up from the couch and gathering the bowls and spoons. She carried them into the kitchen and set them in the sink, then started to hunt through cabinets for dish detergent.  
  
Vaughn appeared in the doorway, his wallet in hand. He pulled out his new drivers license and studied it. The CIA contacts Weiss had used were excellent at their jobs. The reproduction was flawless.  
  
"From now on," He said. "For a while, at least, I'll be Nick Spencer." Vaughn thought for a moment. "That sounds like a sports reporter, doesn't it?" He put on a fake, announcer-style voice. "And now, live from the locker room, it's Nick Spencer with the results of tonight's big game."  
  
Sydney laughed out loud while rinsing the soup bowls, her search for detergent unsuccessful. She cleaned them as thoroughly as possible and then set them in the drying rack next to the sink.  
  
"If you're the sports reporter," She said, drying her hands on her jeans. "Then I'm the cheerleader." She held out her right hand for Vaughn to shake. "Hi, Kelly Callen. Nice to meet you."  
  
Vaughn laughed and shook her hand before pulling her into his arms for a kiss. "Hmmm," He said. "A cheerleader, eh?"  
  
Sydney swatted at him and pushed him away, laughing. "It's too early in this relationship for role-playing," She teased. "Besides, you've already seen my best costumes." She started down the hallway towards the bedroom. "We'd better get packed up and get on the road. What time is our flight?"   
  
Vaughn followed, tucking the license back in his wallet. "Two-ten a.m." He entered the bedroom and watched for a moment as Sydney opened one of her suitcases on the bed and tucked in her clothes from the day before. "Syd, wait for a second," Vaughn reached out to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the suitcase.  
  
Sliding into his arms, Sydney looked into Vaughn's eyes, her heart melting as it did every time he drew her close. Vaughn pressed his lips to her forehead and then just held her, his arms tight and secure. They stayed that way for a long time, blocking out the world outside for every precious moment that they could.  
  
Francie Calfo leaned back against the house, her face warm, her eyes wet and rimmed with tears. She hugged herself, rubbing away the goose bumps on her arms as she gazed out into the backyard, her eyes adjusting slowly to the night.  
  
Hearing the back door creak as it opened, Francie glanced over as a triangle of light spilled out onto the porch. Will Tippin stepped timidly outside, temporarily blinded in the darkness. He waited there for a moment, listening, finally closing the door behind himself. He saw her at the same time she looked away, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.  
  
"Francie," Will took a few steps towards her, stopping a foot or so away, sensing that she did not want him to hug her or even come any closer. He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, words escaping him.  
  
Francie's voice, shaky and broken, filled the space between them. "It's crazy, Will," She said. "I mean - do you know how crazy it sounds?"  
  
"I know."  
  
Francie was in a state of disbelief. "She's my best friend, and all this time I didn't know. I never even suspected."  
  
"I know," Will repeated, helpless to say much else.  
  
"And you," Francie suddenly turned to him. "You've known for six months, and now you're even working for them?"  
  
"I do research," Will interjected quickly. "That's all."  
  
"No, that's not all," Francie said pointedly, anger bubbling to the surface. "You know all about Sydney's other life and you're involved in it. I know nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet you both claim to be my friend."  
  
"Francie," Will reached out and caught one of her hands between his own. "Syd lied to me for a long time, too," He told her, his voice low. "The only reason I know anything is because she had to rescue me after I went digging in places I had no business being. I was almost killed because I didn't back off, even when she and her father told me to."  
  
"Her father," Francie pulled back from Will and walked to the far end of the porch, her eyes tearing up again. "That man has been in my house, in my restaurant," She fought to control her emotions. "You've all lied to me."  
  
Will hung his head for a moment, the truth of her words cutting like a knife. "Francie," He said. "We had to do it to keep you safe. Sydney's letter explained that and about Danny, about me. It's for your protection." Will's eyes darted out to the backyard, scanning the perimeter, looking for shadows in the bushes. "In fact, Fran, we probably shouldn't be talking about this outside."  
  
Francie spun around to face Will, her eyes wide. "What?" She asked, clearly spooked. "Why? Is someone listening?" Looking out into the yard, she backed away from the edge of porch, stopping only when she bumped into the side of the house.  
  
Will walked to her and took her by the elbow, gently steering her towards the door. Francie allowed him to guide her inside, but then she pulled away and left him, walking quickly to the dining room where dinner was still on the table. She stood and stared down at her plate of uneaten food and the letter that lay next to it. She was about to reach for it when Will appeared at her side and picked it up, folding it in half just before unceremoniously dropping it into the water pitcher in the center of the table.  
  
Francie's eyes grew wide again as the letter instantly dissolved, drifting down to the bottom of the pitcher like grains of salt.  
  
"C'mon," Will said as he gently touched her arm. "Let's go talk in the living room."  
  
Francie stood her ground, her emotions a tumbling mess, her thoughts racing too quick for her to catch them in a framework of words. She simply nodded and followed Will over to the couch where they sank down in the cushions, Will pulling Francie's hand into his lap and holding it tightly.  
  
Francie's eyes were dark, her expression troubled. "Is it even safe in here?"  
  
Will smiled, giving Francie's hand a squeeze. He pointed across the room at a light fixture on the wall. "That has an anti-bugging device in it," He revealed. He then pointed towards the hallway. "There's one in each bedroom, too."  
  
Francie followed his gesture, her face going blank, her eyes wide and wild. She suddenly jerked her hand back from Will and jumped to her feet, anger swelling and pushing her shock and fear aside.  
  
"I don't even know who you are," She said, her voice hard. She backed away from the couch as Will slowly rose to his feet. "I have to get out of here. I have to go," Francie went quickly to her bedroom where she grabbed her purse and a sweater.  
  
"Francie!" Will called to her as she breezed through the house, not stopping as she made her way to the front door. "Francie, don't go. Let's talk about this!" Will followed her. She paused briefly in the doorway to glare at him, her eyes aflame. Then she was gone, slamming the door hard enough to make the windows rattle.  
  
Hours later, around one a.m., Francie had still not returned. Will paced the house once, twice and then a third time before finally deciding to go to bed. As he climbed under the covers, his body tired and his mind weary, he reassured himself with thoughts of Francie at the restaurant, finishing paperwork or drowning her sorrows in a drink or two at the bar.  
  
Will flopped back against his pillow, resting an arm under his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn't blame Francie for running out; it had taken several days for the shock to wear off when he had first learned the truth. Although her circumstances had been less extreme, it hadn't served to soften the blow. Will understood that Francie felt betrayed; he had been one of her betrayers and had struggled with it from day one.  
  
As tired as he was, it didn't take Will long to drift off to sleep. He was awakened, however, when he felt someone slip into bed with him and he reached out to take Francie's hand as she scooted close to his body.  
  
"Will," She said, sniffing quietly. She was crying, large tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Will."  
  
Will slipped his arms around her as she settled in against him, her head on his chest. "It's okay, Francie," He murmured. "Everything is going to be okay." And as he drifted off to sleep again, Francie safely at his side, they both believed that what he said was true.  
  
The afternoon breeze off the ocean ruffled the curtains and fluttered the pages of the newspaper spread out on the table. Vaughn reached up to hold them down, his eyes never leaving the story he was reading. He'd had to walk quite a distance to get a hold of an American newspaper, but it had been worth the trip.  
  
"Syd," He called into the next room. "The Kings are in the middle of a winning streak."  
  
Sydney Bristow rounded the corner of the bedroom and entered the modest kitchen with its sunny dining room where Vaughn sat at the wide, square table. Pulling out one of the chairs, she put down the laundry basket she had been carrying and looked up expectantly.   
  
"Is there any important news in that paper?" Sydney teased, shaking out a bath towel. She folded it and set it on the table before moving on to another.  
  
"Funny," Vaughn observed sarcastically before turning his attention back to the newspaper. He read a few more articles, scanning over most of the business and entertainment news. He lingered over a political page, then flipped over to the comics. They seemed funnier to him now than they ever had before; he decided that six weeks overseas could make any American humor seem hilarious.  
  
Vaughn and Sydney were currently settled on the Greek island of Evia, in a small ocean side town. They had been living in a rental home near the shore for almost four weeks. After spending two weeks in Switzerland in a ski chalet in the mountains, a cold, snowy place that left them both homesick for California, a Greek island had been an easy choice.  
  
The couple had settled into the small, comfortable home, unpacking almost all of their meager belongings even though they knew they'd have to move again in a few short weeks. They spent the majority of their time reading, relaxing and treating their time there as a vacation. Vaughn knew, however, that there would come a day when the money they'd pooled into the secret account that fueled their credit cards would run out and he'd need to find work. Until that point, however, they decided they'd just enjoy their time together and their life without demands.  
  
Vaughn finished with the paper and carefully refolded it before setting it aside. He grabbed a grape from a fruit bowl on the table and popped it into his mouth, tipping his head back to catch a breeze as the curtains billowed in the window behind him.  
  
At the other end of the table, Sydney stood, still folding the laundry. She took pleasure in simple tasks like this; she never seemed to have time for it in her life before. She seemed not to notice that Vaughn was watching her, a smile slowly spreading across his face.  
  
The weather was especially pleasant that day, and Sydney had dressed comfortably in a pair of off-white gauzy cotton drawstring pants and a powder blue sleeveless t-shirt that ended an inch or so above her waist. Vaughn's eyes lingered on the succulent curves of the body he now knew so well, the feminine rise of her hips, the womanly slope of her belly. It was here that Vaughn's eyes lingered, studying the smooth skin peeking out below her shirt.  
  
His smile fading a bit, Vaughn cocked his head and leaned in a bit, studying her closer. This she noticed, looking up and catching him staring at her waist. Sydney glanced down and then back up again to meet Vaughn's inquisitive eyes.  
  
"What?" She questioned.  
  
Vaughn shrugged. "I don't know," He said, his eyebrows furrowed. "Something just looks different."  
  
Sydney glanced down again, this time allowing her eyes to linger on her stomach. She turned her attention back to the laundry, her eyes revealing nothing. "Different in a bad way?" She asked off-handedly, as if the answer to the question meant nothing to her.  
  
Vaughn shrugged. "Not good or bad," He said. "Just different." Grabbing another grape, he looked once more at her stomach before dismissing the subject. "It's probably just that I'm not used to seeing you so relaxed."  
  
Sydney smiled privately, finishing with the bath towels and moving on to the kitchen dishtowels. She folded them carefully, deliberately, taking pleasure in the simple act of it. There was something wonderful to her in keeping a house and making a home; it was basic and good and she took to it naturally. She told herself that it was because she was with Vaughn and because she loved him. But truthfully, it was all that and more. It was hers, a life she was choosing, a place she wanted to be. And that made her happy.  
  
"Speaking of relaxed," Vaughn said as he got up from his chair. He grabbed a stack of folded dishtowels and returned them to their place in a kitchen drawer. "Where did you go early this morning while I was still sleeping?"  
  
Sydney turned back to the laundry basket so Vaughn would not see her grinning, a rush of color in her cheeks. "I went to get something new for the fridge," She replied quietly, pulling out more clean towels.  
  
Vaughn rubbed his hands together, anticipating a stellar evening meal. There was a fresh fish market not far from their house and Sydney often walked there early in the morning to find something to make for their supper. Impatient as he was, Sydney knew Vaughn would have to take a peek inside the refrigerator. She had been counting on this, and Vaughn did not let her down.  
  
"You know I can't wait," Vaughn told her, taking a step towards the refrigerator. "When it comes to dinner, I hate to be surprised." He reached for the door handle and suddenly stopped cold, his eyes riveted to a photograph on the refrigerator door, something he'd never seen before. It was on a square sheet of paper, about the size of a postcard, fastened to the refrigerator door with a magnet shaped like the state of California, one that Sydney had brought from home.  
  
Carefully, Vaughn reached out and removed the paper from beneath the magnet. He brought it close to his face, studying the grainy image. When he finally raised his eyes, they were wide with wonder.  
  
"Syd," He said, his voice reverent. "Is this an ultrasound?"  
  
Sydney left her laundry and came to Vaughn's side, her eyes rimmed with tears. She nodded, and Vaughn dropped his eyes to her stomach, his face changing from shock to amazement.  
  
"That's what's different," He said, reaching out to gently touch her belly. "Oh my god, Syd," Vaughn smiled. "You're pregnant."  
  
"You're happy, then?" Sydney asked, sliding into his arms. Vaughn embraced her tightly, kissing her forehead, kissing her lips.  
  
"Happy?" He asked, pulling back to look into her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Are you kidding?" His grin was wide, his eyes dancing with light. "I'm thrilled, Syd."  
  
"This is going to complicate things," Sydney said, folding herself into his embrace once again. Vaughn shook his head, stroking her hair, kissing her ear.  
  
"Only in the best way," He assured her, glancing over her shoulder at the ultrasound in his hand. He kissed her again, his love for her overflowing his heart. "Only in the best possible way."  
  
*******  
  
A/N: Still more to come! I'm having a blast - I hope you are, too. 


	9. In the Darkness Before the Dawn

Chapter Nine: In the Darkness Before the Dawn  
  
"Jack Bristow is gone, Mr. Sloane," Sark sat down in front of Sloane's desk, his eyes narrowed. "All attempts to reach him have gone unanswered."  
  
"I anticipated as much," Sloane replied, resting his chin on his hand. He swiveled in his chair, away and then back, facing Sark with dark eyes. "You missed the mission briefing this morning, Mr. Sark."  
  
"My apologies," Sark smirked. "I would've liked to be there as you issued the kill order for Sydney Bristow and her CIA boyfriend."  
  
"It was clever," Sloane allowed himself a small smile. "I've led the team to believe that Mr. Vaughn is an enemy of the United States and is hiding a vital piece of intel at his apartment in Madrid." He reached across his desk and opened a file folder for Sark to see. Inside were photographs, obviously taken with a telephoto lens, of Vaughn entering and exiting an apartment building in Madrid, Spain. "The point man is Hayes."  
  
"Ah, the SD-6 agent with the itchy trigger finger," Sark couldn't help but smile.  
  
"And his back-up is Agent Dixon," The look of satisfaction that crossed Sloane's face was deep and chilling.  
  
Sark's brow furrowed as he leaned in. "Mr. Sloane, that doesn't concern you? He was Sydney Bristow's partner."  
  
"I have no reason to question Mr. Dixon's loyalty," Sloane answered, closing the file folder before sliding it into his desk drawer. "And he'll never see Sydney. Hayes has the kill order. He'll enter the apartment and carry out the executions while Dixon sits nearby in a van, monitoring the whole operation. Dixon believes that Hayes is just going to recover the intel. I've instructed Hayes not to hesitate in using deadly force if something should happen to go wrong."  
  
"And it undoubtedly will," Sark grinned, relishing the thought.  
  
"Of course," Sloane nodded. "I wouldn't expect Mr. Vaughn to do anything less than try to protect his girlfriend. But they won't see this coming, and it'll be over before they realize it's started."  
  
"You're not worried that Jack Bristow will try to warn them?" Sark crossed his legs, adjusting the crease in his finely tailored dress slacks.  
  
"He will try," Sloane conceded. "But he won't succeed. The planted email he intercepted has led him to believe that we won't have intel on Sydney's location for another thirty-six hours. By the time he's able to reach her, it will be over."  
  
"Splendid," Sark grinned.  
  
"Yes," Sloane sat back in his desk chair, thoroughly pleased. "Splendid, indeed."  
  
*** Four Hours Later ***  
  
Keeping one eye on the road and the other on the rearview mirror, Jack Bristow punched the accelerator, speeding through surface streets in an attempt to get through Los Angeles as quickly as possible. Rush hour was coming to a close and the traffic was easing, but Jack was still nervous, his senses alert to everything and anything around him. He knew he did not have time to waste.  
  
His mind working furiously, Jack leaned forward to adjust the air conditioning. It was a warm night, but Jack knew the source of his perspiration was not so much the temperature as it was the fear that simmered just underneath his stoic surface. The email that Sloane had written played through his mind like a cassette tape on a continuous loop.  
  
It was shocking enough to read that Arvin Sloane had identified Jack and his daughter as double agents, but one other line from the email stuck out even more. Jack knew Sloane better than most people, and it seemed odd to him that Sloane would allow other players to see his cards before the game was over. He had mentioned in the email that he would have Sydney's location in thirty-six hours. The fact that Sloane had spelled this out concerned Jack deeply.  
  
Jack did some quick math in his head, calculating that most of Europe would now be in the early, pre-dawn hours. Jack slammed a fist on the steering wheel and let out a frustrated sigh. The time in Europe did him no good because he didn't even know if Sydney was there.  
  
In the eight months since she had disappeared, Sydney had made no attempts to contact Jack. Because of that, he had spent the last three hours hunting down Will Tippin, but to no avail. Will had not heard from Sydney either. Jack was now done grasping at straws and decided to act on one final hunch.  
  
Jack grabbed his cell phone and dialed quickly. The number rang to the CIA, where he verified his name, waited for security to clear the call, and then was put through to Devlin's secretary.  
  
"Jack, it's a good thing you caught me," She said pleasantly. "I was just about to leave for the day."  
  
"And I'm glad you always work until at least seven o'clock," Jack replied, his voice calm as he waded through a flood of thoughts. "Joanie, I need a favor."  
  
Joanie didn't hesitate. "Anything for you, Jack."  
  
"Can you please page Agent Eric Weiss to call my cell phone?" Jack quickly recited the cell phone number as Joanie jotted it down. She agreed and Jack hung up, his palms damp.  
  
The next fifteen minutes crept by as Jack navigated the city streets, trying to stay mobile, checking the rearview mirror. The possibility that SD-6 security section was hunting him down was frighteningly real, and Jack kept a constant watch on any vehicles that might be following him.  
  
Jack's cell phone rang shrilly, startling him. He answered it and was momentarily shocked to hear Devlin's voice booming on the other end.  
  
"Bristow, this is Devlin," He thundered. "CIA security is barking up my tree about you. You were supposed to report to a safe house three hours ago."  
  
"I'm aware of that," Jack replied. "I'm tying up a few loose ends."  
  
"Loose ends my ass, Jack!" Devlin snapped. "SD-6 security section would like nothing more than to mount your head on Arvin Sloane's front door. Whatever you're doing cannot be as important as saving your own life."  
  
"Actually, it is," Jack answered calmly. "You'll just have to trust me on this one. And please, transfer me to Joanie."  
  
Devlin cursed under his breath but did as Jack had requested. Joanie was flustered when she came onto the line.  
  
"Jack, I'm sorry," She apologized quickly. "I've tried Agent Weiss's pager three times, and each time I'm told it's not in service. I've also tried his cell phone, but all I get is his voicemail."  
  
"Did you leave a message?"  
  
"No, I wanted to consult with you first," Joanie replied. "What would you have me do, Jack?"  
  
Jack thought for a moment before speaking. "Call back, leave a voicemail telling Weiss I'm on my way over to his home," He requested. "And Joanie, I'll need you to give me his address."  
  
Ten minutes later, Jack pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the apartment complex where Weiss lived. Giving a cursory glance at his surroundings, Jack got out of his car and walked briskly to the front door. Once inside, he found himself in a small lobby of metal mailboxes and two badly dehydrated potted plants. Jack reached for the inner door and stopped; on the wall to his left was a callboard with an intercom button next to each tenants last name and apartment number.  
  
Jack located Weiss's name and pressed the button, holding it down long enough, he reasoned, to wake anyone who might be asleep. When a minute or so passed with no response, Jack pressed it again. He repeated this a third time before retreating to a corner of the lobby to consider his options.  
  
Just as Jack was reaching for his cell phone again, the front door opened. A pizza delivery guy walked in and went to the intercom board, his eyes scanning for the correct name. Jack watched as he identified himself after being greeted by the tenant. There was a moment of silence, and then a loud buzzing sound followed by a distinctive click as the inner door unlocked.  
  
The pizza delivery guy swung the door open wide and walked through, not noticing as Jack rushed up behind him to stick his foot between the door and the jamb, catching it before it could close and latch once again. He glanced around before pulling the door open and taking a few cautious steps into the corridor. Secure that he was alone, Jack quickly found the stairs and went up to the third floor.  
  
Jack found Weiss's apartment and knocked loudly, impatient as he waited for an answer. He didn't allow much time to elapse before he forcefully knocked again. Leaning in, Jack put his ear close to the door and listened. He could hear nothing from the other side.  
  
Stepping back, Jack knocked once more, drawing his cell phone from his pocket at the same time. He was about to dial when an apartment door behind him opened and a young man stepped into the hallway.  
  
"Hey, man," He said as Jack turned to face him. "If you're looking for Eric, he's not home."  
  
Jack looked the man from head to toe. He appeared to be about Weiss's age and was dressed as though he'd just arrived home from a long day at the office. He had a beer in one hand which he had used to motion towards Weiss's door.  
  
"Do you have any idea where he is?" Jack questioned, trying to appear nonchalant as desperation pulled at the edges of his mind.  
  
"Yeah, he's at the hospital," The man shrugged, his eyes wide. "I got home from work and he was being carried out to an ambulance. I asked him what was up and he said he was really sick, thought it might be food poisoning."  
  
Jack uttered a terse `thank you' before turning away and heading back down the stairs, his brain working at breakneck speed as he exited the building.  
  
Jack got back into his car, cell phone in his hand. He dialed quickly. "Mr. Tippin," He said as Will picked up on the other end. "I need you to get out a phone book, call every emergency department in every hospital in the Los Angeles area, and ask if they have received a patient by the name of Eric Weiss." Jack paused as Will repeated these instructions back to him. He then continued, giving Will his cell phone number. "Once you find him, call me immediately." Jack hung up and stared out the windshield at the darkening sky, noting that the daylight was fading almost as quickly as his hopes.  
  
"Syd, wake up," Michael Vaughn sat on the edge of the bed, his hand on Sydney's shoulder as he gently shook her. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she blinked hard into the darkness of the bedroom.  
  
"Hi," She said, smiling as her eyes focused on Vaughn's face. He smiled back and brushed stray strands of hair from her face.  
  
"I hate to wake you," He said, his voice apologetic. "I know you didn't sleep well during the night."  
  
"It's okay," Sydney slowly sat up, rising from the bed with a moan. "I would've had to get up to pee again in a few minutes anyway."  
  
Vaughn chuckled as he helped Sydney to her feet, her pregnant belly prominent beneath her thin cotton sleep shirt. "Do you still want to go up to the roof to watch the sunrise?"  
  
"Of course," Sydney nodded as she crossed the hall from the bedroom to the bathroom. "We've been planning it for a week."  
  
"This is the first day it hasn't been overcast," Vaughn stifled a yawn as he passed by the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen. He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave as he reached into the cabinet for two juice glasses. It was just past 6:15 a.m. Sunrise was predicted to be about 6:55.  
  
Sydney soon joined him in the kitchen, her teeth freshly brushed. She leaned back against the counter, spreading her toes and enjoying the feel of the cool floor tiles on the soles of her feet. She gently rubbed her swollen stomach as she watched Vaughn pour two full glasses of orange juice.  
  
"The last few days have been rough," Vaughn stated sympathetically as he handed one glass to Sydney. She took a sip and then sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
"I just haven't been feeling all that well," Sydney conceded. She smiled feebly, meeting Vaughn's eyes. "But we're in Madrid, in the middle of August. I'm destined to be uncomfortable."  
  
"It's only for another month," Vaughn reminded her as he went to the refrigerator.  
  
"What, my pregnancy or Madrid?" Sydney asked teasingly, her eyes shining.  
  
Vaughn grinned, setting a plate of muffins on the counter top. "Well," He said, as though deeply considering. "I think the pregnancy will definitely end in about a month, but Madrid, that depends on how much you like being here."  
  
Sydney sought out his embrace, sliding herself between him and kitchen counter. It was a tight squeeze. "I like being with you," She said, slipping her arm around Vaughn's waist. He placed a kiss on her forehead, his arm resting on her shoulders.  
  
"That goes without saying," Vaughn said just before their lips met. They kissed gently for a moment, the quiet of the morning surrounding them. The city beyond the open balcony doors was a few minutes from waking up, the streets still vacant. The only sound was the early birds nesting in nearby treetops.  
  
"We've already been here for a month," Sydney reasoned when she and Vaughn parted and he busied himself with slicing the muffins in half before spreading them with a light layer of butter.  
  
"You're ready to move on?" He questioned.  
  
"We've been lucky so far," Sydney replied knowingly. "Every place we've moved we've been able to stay for six weeks or two months. It's been like a vacation. But with a baby, I think we'll have to be more careful, not allow ourselves to get so relaxed."  
  
"We should move soon," Vaughn agreed. He laid down the butter knife and picked up one of the muffin halves, extending it to Sydney.  
  
"Hmm, thanks," She accepted it hungrily, taking a large bite before motioning towards the ceiling. "Let's take the rest up to the roof with us."  
  
Vaughn agreed that this was a good idea and collected the two patio chairs from their balcony before leading the way out of the apartment and to the stairwell that led to the roof. Their apartment was on the top floor and they had a great view from their balcony, but it faced the wrong direction to see the spectacular sunrise over the city.  
  
Once on the roof, Sydney stood for a moment and turned a slow circle, her eyes scanning the wide horizon. The roof was flat, with nothing but a small lip at the edge, leaving the view virtually unobstructed.   
  
"It's gorgeous up here!" Vaughn declared, setting up the patio chairs. He helped Sydney ease into hers and then laughed as she balanced the plate of muffins on her large belly. "You're gorgeous, too, Syd," He told her, reaching over to take her hand as he sat down.  
  
Sydney entwined her fingers with Vaughn's, smiling at him just before taking another bite of muffin. Her thoughts were blissful as she turned her eyes to the horizon, her hopes rising as the first streaks of light appeared in the eastern sky.  
  
Not more than ten minutes after Will had returned his call, Jack Bristow was rushing through the front doors of the emergency department at UCLA Medical Center, carefully side-stepping hospital gurneys and patients in wheelchairs on his way to the admit desk. When he reached it, he spoke quickly to a nurse behind the counter, his frantic expression and hurried pose enough to make him appear to be a concerned family member. The nurse did not hesitate to direct him to an exam room a few doors down the hall.  
  
When Jack pushed open the door and entered the large exam room, he was greeted by the smell of antiseptic and the sound of a child crying somewhere beyond the row of closed green curtains. He paused for a moment, unsure which curtain to pull back first. He was about to try the first one on the right when it suddenly opened, a nurse pulling it free of the end of a gurney where Eric Weiss lay, his skin pallid, his eyes half open.  
  
"Can I help you?" The nurse asked, pen posed above the medical chart in her hands.  
  
"Is he going to be all right?" Jack asked, his concern genuine. Weiss looked worse than Jack had imagined.  
  
The nurse looked skeptically at Jack, her eyes narrowed. "Are you a family member?"  
  
Before Jack could think of a believable response, Weiss lifted his head from the pillow and spoke, his voice faint. "Uncle Jack?"  
  
The nurse sighed, glancing from Jack to Weiss and then back again. "He's got a pretty severe case of food poisoning," She stated. "Don't stay too long; he needs to get some rest."  
  
Jack thanked the nurse warmly and then turned to Weiss as soon as she was gone. "Good cover," He said.  
  
Weiss managed a weak smile. "Bad seafood can keep me down, but not out." He started to close his eyes again, but then snapped them open and looked pointedly at Jack. "Wait a minute," He said. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"  
  
Jack glanced around quickly before grabbing the edge of the curtain and jerking it back around the bed. Weiss regarded all this with worried eyes, his brow furrowed in concern. Once Jack was certain that he had attained as much privacy as possible, he moved close to the gurney and spoke in a low voice.  
  
"It's a long story, one that I will be glad to relate to you at a later time. But for now, just listen carefully."  
  
"Like I have a choice?" Weiss raised his right hand and tugged lightly on his IV line.  
  
Jack ignored his sarcasm and went on to briefly explain the situation, emphasizing the need for immediate action. "I know that you've been in contact with my daughter," He concluded. "That's why I've come to you. They need to be warned, and it needs to happen now." Jack pulled his cell phone from his pocket and held it out to Weiss.  
  
Weiss was silent, stunned by Jack's words. After accepting the phone, he squeezed his eyes shut, thinking hard.  
  
"What's wrong?" Jack demanded, momentarily fearing that his hunch had been wrong.  
  
"I use CIA contacts in Europe to get Vaughn a new secure cell phone each time he and Sydney move," Weiss said, finally opening his eyes. "My head's a little foggy here, Jack. I'm trying to remember the most recent number."  
  
The bands of light on the horizon were lengthening as the morning slowly unfolded and stretched out like a housecat after a long nap. Sydney and Vaughn took in the sights and sounds of the city, their chairs facing the sky where the sun would ultimately break through and brilliantly announce the start of the day.  
  
Sydney nibbled along the edge of her second muffin half, pausing to sip her juice while the summer breezes played through her long hair. She was unaware that Vaughn was watching her out of the corner of his eye, anticipating the next thing she would say.  
  
"You know," Sydney held the muffin out in front of her, subjecting it to scrutiny. "This would taste really great with a little orange marmalade." She had barely finished the sentence before Vaughn was on his feet.  
  
"I knew it," He teased, smiling down at her. "You've been on a marmalade kick lately. I should've just brought it up with us earlier." Vaughn reached to smooth down Sydney's hair. "I'll go get it."  
  
"You don't mind?"  
  
"No, I don't mind," Vaughn waved to her as he started for the door that led to the stairs. "Be right back."  
  
Sydney carefully moved the muffin plate over to Vaughn's chair as a flutter of movement inside her grabbed her attention. She smoothed her sleep shirt down over her round belly and pressed her hand to it, smiling to herself as kick after kick landed against her palm. She was sorry Vaughn was missing it; the baby always seemed to be most active when he was busy with other things.  
  
Sydney knew that what truly mattered was whether or not the baby was healthy. It hadn't been difficult to find doctors in each place that they had lived; they tried to stay in or near large cities. But it had been strange, trying to explain, trying to excuse the upheaval in her life when each doctor's advice had been to take things easy, to take life slow.  
  
Rubbing her belly in small, gentle circles, Sydney looked off toward the horizon again. Her mind was wandering, as it did often, to the little things she was missing out on, like a baby shower and decorating a nursery. They were planning to move to France for the end of Sydney's ninth month, and it was there that they would buy a crib and other baby necessities. Along the way, however, Sydney had picked up a few baby clothes, keeping in mind that anything she purchased had to be easily packed.  
  
Sydney smiled, thinking of Vaughn. He wanted so badly for the baby to be born in France, to share that heritage with him. And he wanted something else, as well, and had asked Sydney one night after dinner in Italy. They had walked, hand in hand, their stomachs full of great food and their heads full of plans for their future. Sydney's eyes welled up with tears as she remembered Vaughn, in the moonlight, on a cobblestone pathway, down on one knee.  
  
Meanwhile, down in the apartment, Vaughn had just pulled the jar of orange marmalade out of the refrigerator when his cell phone began to ring. He set the marmalade on the kitchen counter and went to grab his phone.  
  
In the bedroom, Vaughn picked up the cell phone from the bedside table and turned to go back into the kitchen. He flipped on the kitchen light and looked at the phone as the caller ID feature flashed a number that Vaughn did not recognize. Given the early hour and the fact that Weiss was the only person who knew the cell number, Vaughn decided to answer, pausing by the kitchen counter as he depressed the "on" button.  
  
In that instant, the marmalade jar exploded, the fruity preserves and pieces of glass blown in every direction. Startled to the point of shock, Vaughn dropped the cell phone. It clattered to the floor, the battery pack breaking free and skittering across the ceramic tile.  
  
"It was ringing, but then it went dead," Weiss held the phone out from his ear, looking at the numeric display. "It connected, but only for a second or two."  
  
Jack gripped the bedside railing, his knuckles white. "Try it again," He urged.  
  
Weiss redialed the number a total of three times before finally shaking his head, handing the phone back to Jack. "All I'm getting is a voicemail prompt," He said dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Jack."  
  
Jack brought his fist down heavily on the bed railing as he turned away, his mind still working furiously to find avenues that had yet to be explored.  
  
Weiss sensed this and spoke up, his voice full of regret. "Jack," He said. "I don't have another way of contacting them. We knew that email or US mail would both be too risky. Without the cell phone, that's it. We've lost them."  
  
Jack didn't want to hear those words. He stood silent for a moment, wavering between desperation to find his daughter and frustration that her desire to protect him was keeping him from doing the same for her.  
  
Jack was nudged from his thoughts as his cell phone rang. He answered quickly, his expression hopeful. His face fell, however, when he heard Devlin's voice.  
  
"Jack, I've had enough," He said firmly. "This is a direct order from your superior. Get yourself to the safe house, and do it now."  
  
Jack looked up at Weiss, his eyes registering defeat. "Yes, sir. I'm on my way." He hung up and dropped the phone into his pocket. "That was Devlin. I need to report to a safe house," Jack sighed, collecting his thoughts as Weiss just watched, his face etched with concern. "If you hear from my daughter, please call me."  
  
"I will, Jack," Weiss agreed, finally lowering his head back onto the pillow. His couldn't tell if it was his illness or a sense of dread that was causing his stomach to churn again, but he had to close his eyes for a moment to keep the room from spinning. When he opened them again, Jack Bristow was gone, leaving nothing behind but the gentle flutter of the bedside curtain.  
  
Vaughn instinctively crouched down behind the cabinets, his mind whirling with possible reasons for the sudden eruption of the marmalade jar. The most logical and jarring explanation didn't resonate as truth until Vaughn looked up at the cabinets facing him and saw the bullet embedded in the wood, the cabinet face cracked and splintered.  
  
Vaughn knew from the bullet that the shot must have been fired from the living room. The counter he was braced against jutted out from the wall, marking the divide between the two rooms. The living room was dark, and he could only assume that the assassin had slipped in and hidden himself in the shadows while Vaughn was on the roof.  
  
A strange sensation of warmth drew Vaughn's attention to his left arm. His skin had been sliced open by a shard of glass and blood was running down his hand, dripping from his fingertips and splattering crimson on the golden brown kitchen tile.  
  
Seeing this sparked him to action, the reality of the situation setting in with brute force. Vaughn's first thought was to protect Sydney. As he prayed silently that she would be undetected on the roof, Vaughn made a bold move, rising suddenly and diving for the hallway where he sought cover as gunfire sounded behind him. He quickly retrieved his handgun from the bedroom and checked to be sure it was loaded.  
  
Crouching inside the hallway, Vaughn remained perfectly still as he listened, straining his ears to pick up the slightest sound. He was met with nothing but silence, which unsettled him deeply. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing on his courage before darting back into the kitchen, returning fire as bullets whizzed over his head and became lodged in the cabinet doors. Sawdust and splinters peppered the air.  
  
Up on the roof, it had occurred to Sydney that it seemed to be taking Vaughn a long time to return with the marmalade. She had just eased herself out of the patio chair when she heard it - a faint popping sound that struck her as familiar. She stood and listened until realization gripped her and her breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide.  
  
"Michael," She breathed, her heart pounding as she started towards the stairway. She stopped, though, when she looked down and realized she had no weapon, no way to defend herself against someone with a gun. Going in through the front door would be tantamount to painting a bullseye on her chest.  
  
Changing direction, Sydney went to the edge of the roof nearest their apartment. Down on her hands and knees, she looked over the side, pleased to find herself right over the balcony that led into the kitchen. She remained still for a moment, listening. More gunfire erupted, the sound escaping the open balcony doors and echoing off the neighboring buildings.  
  
Sydney's instinct to fight came on strongly, overwhelming her concern for her own safety. She twisted her body around until she was sitting on the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the edge, her knees resting on the narrow lip. She paused briefly to take a deep breath before sliding herself forward and easing her hips over the edge. She then swiveled onto her side, twisting around until she could grip the ledge with her hands. Another short burst of gunfire bolstered her resolve and she pushed off, careful to keep her prominent belly clear of the edge while lowering her body until she was hanging by her hands from the lip of the roof.  
  
Sydney looked down and was dismayed to see that the balcony floor, illuminated by a circle of light from within the apartment, was still five feet below her. She knew it would be a hard drop, especially since she hadn't done anything like this in months. But she was also aware that she had no choice, and keeping that in mind, she loosened her grip and let go.  
  
Sydney's feet struck the concrete with an unexpected force, the shock reverberating through her body as she dropped down to a sitting position, squeezing herself into a protected corner of the balcony. She took a moment to steady herself, breathing deeply and rubbing her stomach as the pain in her feet subsided. Forcing herself to remain calm, Sydney slowly leaned forward and peeked around the edges of the open French doors. What she saw nearly stopped her heart.  
  
"Michael!" Sydney cried, unable to stop herself from crawling towards him, her breath coming in short bursts as she fought back a rush of tears.  
  
"Sydney, stop!" Vaughn shouted to her from where he sat, his back against the cabinets. "There's broken glass and splinters of wood everywhere."  
  
Sydney paid no attention. All she could see was blood and the towel soaked with it that Vaughn held to his left forearm. "Oh my god, Michael," She used her hands to clear the floor in front of her before coming to him, her fingers scratched and burning by the time she reached his side. "Oh my god. What happened?"  
  
"He's dead," was all Vaughn said, his eyes dark as he pulled the towel back slightly to check his wound. The bleeding had slowed but had not stopped. Sydney quickly reached up behind them to a kitchen drawer and pulled out a clean towel.  
  
"Who? Who's dead?" Sydney asked as she brushed sawdust and bits of broken wood from Vaughn's hair. He pulled back from her, seeming to notice for the first time that she was kneeling on the floor beside him.  
  
"Syd, you'll get hurt," He looked at the glass and bits of marmalade and wood on the floor around them. Vaughn met her eyes, his face a mixture of emotions, one indiscernible from the next. "Sydney, how did you get down here?"  
  
Sydney shook her head. "Never mind that," She told him, her eyes rimmed with tears. "They found us, didn't they?"  
  
Vaughn nodded silently, his eyes locked on hers. He let go of the towel for a moment to stroke Sydney's cheek, brushing away a tear. "Yeah," He said finally. "They found us."  
  
Sydney melted against Vaughn, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, her tears coming fast. With his free arm, Vaughn squeezed her tightly before resting his hand lightly on her belly, his fingers splayed against her soft cotton gown. They remained there for several quiet moments until a noise in the hallway outside the apartment grabbed their attention like a fist around their throats.  
  
The apartment door suddenly banged open as a voice called out, "Hayes!"  
  
Sydney and Vaughn parted, pulling back from each other as their eyes met and communicated a thousand, silent words. Vaughn reached down and picked up his handgun from where it lay on the tile floor. He placed it into Sydney's waiting hand, and she quietly checked the clip to see how many bullets were left.  
  
Satisfied with her firepower, Sydney cocked the gun and rose to her feet, her arm extended, her eyes searching for her target. A dark figure moved through the living room, pausing over the body of the man Vaughn had killed. Sydney raised the gun and zeroed in, taking dead aim at the man's head.  
  
As if sensing this, the intruder stopped and raised his own weapon before slowly turning to face Sydney. As he did, he took a step closer to her, moving into a pale circle of light cast by the overhead fixture in the kitchen.  
  
Seated on the floor, his heart racing, his pulse pounding in his ears, Vaughn could not have imagined the next thing he heard spill from Sydney's lips.  
  
"Dixon!?" She gasped, her breath ragged as shock overwhelmed her.  
  
Dixon immediately backed up a step, stunned by the image before him. He blinked hard to make sure it was real. "Sydney?" He said when he finally found his voice.  
  
Neither one of them moved, their weapons still taking aim, their eyes locked in a terrified stare. Dixon finally allowed his gaze to drop, and when he took in the sight of Sydney's pregnant belly, he let out a sharp breath as if he'd been kicked in the ribs. His shock was total and complete when Vaughn suddenly stood up next to Sydney, his face pale, his eyes darting between Sydney and her ex-partner.  
  
Dixon slowly holstered his gun and backed up, his hands in the air. He stepped over the body of his colleague and then paused, looking down at the dead man and then up at Sydney once more. With a brief shake of his head, as if the pieces to complete this puzzle were not to be found, Dixon disappeared back into the shadows of the hallway and darted down the stairs, leaving the apartment building as if it were on fire.  
  
Sydney dropped the gun on the counter top and turned to Vaughn, her eyes filling with tears, her face white as a sheet. She clutched Vaughn's shirt, her fingers twisting the soft cotton t-shirt.  
  
"We have to call Weiss," She pleaded desperately. "SD-6 found me, they know I'm with you. They know now that I was CIA. We have to warn my father." Her words came in rapid-fire bursts as she fought to stay in control of her breathing, swallowing sobs before they escaped her throat.  
  
Vaughn was adamant that he protect Sydney first and told her so. He released her hands from his shirt and pulled her into a hug, pressing his cheek to her hair.  
  
"Right now we need to get out of here. The local police are probably on their way, and we need to not be here when they show up," Vaughn pulled back from her, his eyes searching her face. "We need to pack up and go now. We'll get a bus out of the city and get as far away as we can. Then we'll call Weiss."  
  
"My dad," Sydney sobbed, covering her face with her hands.  
  
Vaughn's heart broke as he reached out to Sydney once again, cradling her against his chest. "We'll call him, Syd," Vaughn assured her. "But I need to be sure that you're gonna be okay first."  
  
The bus ride from Madrid was long and uncomfortable. The closer they got to Barcelona, the worse Sydney felt. By the time they reached the city, she was exhausted and desperate for a hot shower and a bed with cool, clean sheets. Vaughn could see how badly she needed sleep and quickly found them a hotel room not far from downtown.  
  
After they had their fill of icy cold bottled water from the hotel cantina, Sydney and Vaughn both showered, changing into fresh pajamas before crawling into bed. Sydney had done her best to dress Vaughn's wound, and he rewrapped it tightly in an Ace bandage before settling back into his pillow and allowing exhaustion to sweep him off into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
A few hours later, Sydney awoke in darkness, her eyes struggling to adjust and her mind struggling to remember where she was. Sitting up slowly, an uncomfortable pressure in her abdomen made her suddenly recall the bus trip and all the bottled water she'd consumed when they'd arrived. Smiling faintly, Sydney eased herself up from the bed and carefully made her way across the room to the bathroom. Not wanting to wake Vaughn, she closed the door before turning on the light.  
  
An anguished scream caused Vaughn to bolt upright in bed, throwing off the blankets. He was on his feet and just arriving at the bathroom door as it swung open and Sydney appeared in the doorway, her right hand stained crimson. Vaughn was wholly unprepared for that but even more shocked when he looked down and saw that the lower part of Sydney's night shirt was soaked in blood and clinging to her thighs.  
  
"Something's wrong, Michael," She sobbed. "There's something really wrong."  
  
******  
  
A/N: Sorry it has been so long between updates. I had the flu this week and didn't write as much as I would've liked. Thanks to all the readers and reviewers - you're one reason why this is so much fun. More to come. 


	10. Where the Clouds Are Far Behind

Chapter 10: Where the Clouds Are Far Behind  
  
Through the suspicious eyes of Agent Marcus Dixon, the hallways of SD-6 looked markedly different. In the past, he simply would have walked purposefully to his workstation, logged onto his computer, and began myriad tasks to be accomplished, accepting each assignment or report with a smile. But now, the day after his view had been forcefully shifted, he regarded everything around him with caution. The people smiling as they went by, the files on the desktops, the innocuous workspace Dixon shared with so many other loyal government employees.  
  
Or were they?  
  
Dixon couldn't help but search each face he passed, his eyes seeking answers he wasn't sure he wanted to know. His senses were bombarded and nearly overwhelmed as he took in everything around him as though he'd never seen any of it before. It was deeply disconcerting, yet he felt he could not walk into this office in any other way. Not after what he had seen in an apartment in Madrid.  
  
Dixon reached his workstation and slowly sat down, glancing around as he did. The mood in the office was always serious, but today it carried an undertone of sadness. Dixon swallowed hard and looked down at his keyboard as he realized that everyone must have heard about Agent Hayes. He didn't have to wonder how much they knew; he had prepared the report himself, a report that was filled with only small kernels of truth.  
  
Dixon was about to log on to his computer when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up into the face of Arvin Sloane.  
  
"Agent Dixon," Sloane said, his voice lukewarm. "Welcome back," He stepped back as Dixon stood up to face him. "I trust your return trip from Madrid was uneventful?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Dixon nodded. He tried to maintain an impassive expression, tried to keep his tone as even as possible. He had a thousand questions, but he somehow instinctively knew that Sloane was not the person to ask.  
  
"I read the report you emailed from the plane," Sloane said. "It's obvious that you did all you could for Agent Hayes, and for that, I'm grateful."  
  
Dixon just nodded, words failing him. He struggled to meet Sloane's eyes as passages from the falsified report flashed through his mind. He'd written that by the time he had reached the apartment, the "target" had fled, taking the "intel" with him.   
  
Sloane turned to walk away, but then turned back, his eyes sharply meeting Dixon's. "You're doing fine work here, Mr. Dixon," He said, his voice heavy with flattery. "Thank you for all your efforts."  
  
Before Sloane walked away, Dixon quietly thanked him, a peculiar burning in his throat. He watched Sloane enter his office and close the door. His thoughts were tumbling over themselves in a rush to be understood, although it made no difference. Dixon was confused by what had happened and puzzled by the new feelings that he embodied. It was as if he could sense darkness beneath Sloane's veil of benevolence and every particle in Dixon's being repelled from it.  
  
Looking once more at Sloane's closed door, Dixon left his desk and walked towards the office of the one person to whom he knew he should speak. Hopeful to find answers, Dixon approached Jack Bristow's office, thankful that the door was open. He poked his head in and was immediately aware that something was not right.  
  
The desktop had been rearranged, the computer shifted from one side to the other. The walls were devoid of decor and the chairs had been moved. The most startling difference, however, was that Mr. Sark now occupied the chair behind the desk; he was facing away from the door, the phone to his ear as he tapped a pen against the armrest of the chair.  
  
Dixon backed away, turning quickly before Sark could detect his presence in the doorway. After returning to his desk, Dixon sat down and logged on to his computer. He glanced around once before quickly pulling up the SD-6 personnel file to which everyone had access. It listed names and contact numbers in case of an emergency. Dixon was glad to note that Jack Bristow's name had not been deleted.  
  
Dixon discreetly pulled his PDA from his breast pocket and entered Jack's information, silently hoping that none of it had been changed. He then backed out of the file and spent the morning biding his time until the lunch hour, working on miscellaneous reports and files that crossed his desk. At precisely noon, he slid back his chair and got to his feet just as a voice sounded behind him.  
  
"Hey, Dixon," Marshall waved as Dixon turned to him, his face falling slightly. "Are you going out for lunch?"  
  
"Yes, Marshall," Dixon replied, adjusting his suit coat before straightening his tie.  
  
Marshall stood there for a moment, his hands in his pockets, his face expectant. When Dixon just looked back at him, expressionless, his eyes unblinking, Marshall cleared his throat.  
  
"Well, uhm, Dixon, do you think I could go with you? Usually I bring a lunch but this morning, believe it or not, I was running late. My alarm clock wasn't the problem, naturally, because I put it together myself, it's one I designed, and you know, hey, if you're interested, I could maybe put one together for you-"  
  
Dixon stopped Marshal mid-ramble by raising his hand. "Marshall, I'm having lunch with my wife," He said, troubled at how easily the lie had spilled out. He hated lying, especially when it included someone from his personal life.  
  
"Oh," Marshall was crestfallen, but only until he looked up just in time to see another agent leaving his desk. "Hey, Jansen! Hey, wait up!"  
  
Five minutes later, Dixon was in his car and parked in the lot outside of a fast food restaurant, PDA in one hand, cell phone in the other. He sent a message to Jack's pager, waited for a response, and then peeled out in search of the deserted construction site that Jack had specified as their meeting place.  
  
Realizing he was early, Dixon stayed in his car, scanning the surroundings for anything suspicious. His senses were alive, his nerves tingling. There was so much he needed to say, but he had run out of ideas on how to say it. He tried to reason it out, but there was nothing reasonable about telling a man that his daughter was cavorting with an enemy of the United States.  
  
If that was even what was going on.  
  
Dixon slammed a hand on the steering wheel. Every thought that crossed his mind regarding SD-6 was followed by a shadow of doubt, a question of validity. Dixon looked down at his hands, breathing deeply in an effort to center his thoughts. When he looked up again, his pulse quickened. A black car was approaching, clouds of dust churned up by its speeding tires.  
  
The car stopped parallel to Dixon's just before the passenger window rolled down. Jack Bristow stared at him from behind dark sunglasses.  
  
"Were you followed?" Jack barked. Dixon quickly assured him that he was not. Jack nodded to him. "Then get in."  
  
Once Dixon was in the passenger seat, Jack took off, tearing out of the construction zone and back onto the surface streets of LA.  
  
"If you don't mind," Jack said, speaking finally. "I prefer to remain mobile. It's safer that way."  
  
Dixon only nodded, too unnerved to form an answer. He suddenly questioned his reasons for being there, wondering if he'd gotten into something that was over his head. i Too late now i/, he told himself. iYou're in the thick of it. i/  
  
"I was wary of contacting you," Jack said suddenly, his eyes never leaving the road. "When I got your page I was concerned that Arvin Sloane was using you to track me down."  
  
"Why would he need to do that?" Dixon blurted. "And why has Mr. Sark moved into your office?"  
  
At this last bit of news, Jack's mouth became a hard line. Behind the glasses, his eyes narrowed and flashed, a wave of anger rising from deep within. He contained it, concentrating at the task at hand. He had much to tell Dixon, and he wanted to handle it as delicately as possible. Jack did not know Dixon well enough to gauge how he would react to being told that the basis of his career was nothing but an evil manipulation.  
  
"Dixon, there are many things we need to discuss. But before I start, I'd like to know why exactly you have contacted me," Jack began. "I don't believe that Sloane sent you; he'd have to give too much away to do that, and he needs you to keep believing the lie."  
  
"What? What lie?" Dixon interjected, his pulse racing. Beads of sweat formed at his hairline and along his spine. He instinctively reach up and slipped a finger between his collar and his throat and tugged lightly on his shirt.  
  
Patiently, Jack repeated his request.  
  
Dixon swallowed hard before beginning to speak, his voice almost apologetic. "I saw Sydney," He said before gripping the door handle as Jack suddenly took a hard right into the parking lot in front of a laundromat. Jack stopped fast, the brakes protesting loudly, and cut off the engine.  
  
"You saw my daughter?" He turned to Dixon and removed his sunglasses, his eyes troubled.  
  
Dixon nodded. "In Madrid," He replied. "That's why I've contacted you. There are pieces here that don't fit, Jack, and I'm hoping you can help me make sense of it all."  
  
Jack nodded. "Tell me everything," He said quietly.  
  
Dixon didn't hesitate before launching in to the whole story, starting at the beginning with the mission briefing at SD-6 and taking it through the moment he drew his gun and barged into the apartment in Madrid. He paused then, unexpected emotion silencing his voice. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat obstinate and impassable.  
  
"I pointed a gun at her, Jack," Dixon said finally, unable to meet Jack's eyes. He turned to gaze out the window, his face in shadow. "She held one on me, as well, as we just stared at each other, in shock. And then this man, the one Sloane said was an enemy of the U.S., he stands up next to her and I - I didn't know what to do. I ran. I turned around and ran."  
  
"What did you tell Sloane?" Jack asked immediately.  
  
"Hayes was dead," Dixon hung his head. "I told Sloane I arrived too late, that Hayes was down and the apartment was empty. It felt wrong to tell him that Sydney was there."  
  
"He already knew," Jack replied. "Dixon, this may be hard for you to hear, but Sloane sent you and Agent Hayes to kill Sydney. The man she was with is Michael Vaughn. He's CIA."  
  
Dixon turned sharply, his face a mix of shock and anger. "That doesn't make any sense," He protested. "Why would Sloane want to kill his own people? Why would he want to kill an agent of the CIA? We are the CIA!"  
  
"No, Dixon," Jack said gently. "SD-6 is not CIA."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Dixon demanded. "SD-6 is a black ops division- "  
  
"SD-6 is Alliance, Dixon," Jack interrupted forcefully. "Everything you thought you knew is a lie. You have been lied to."  
  
Dixon's eyes were wide, locked on Jack's face, as he slowly shook his head back and forth. "That's crazy," He whispered.  
  
"It's the truth," Jack said simply. "That's why Mr. Sark is in my office. I was compromised," He explained. "I am an agent of the real CIA. So was my daughter. We were working as double agents at SD-6."  
  
Dixon pressed his back against the car door, his hand gripping the door handle once again. His mind was struggling to process what he was hearing as logic and truth melted together into a cocktail of confusion. Dixon had come here for answers, but he had been given a whole new set of questions he hadn't previously thought existed.  
  
"This is crazy," He repeated, his voice stronger this time.  
  
"No, actually, it makes sense," Jack reasoned. "If you think about it, all the little clues and suspicions you may have had over the past few years now come together to form a complete picture. All the doubts you had about Sydney's loyalty, all the questions about missing time and failed missions - connect the dots, Dixon. I think you'll find it all lines up."  
  
They were both silent for a long time. Jack stared out his window, his eyes following people on the sidewalk as they went about their daily tasks. He found himself sometimes searching pedestrian's faces, searching through crowds of people, looking for his daughter's face. Weiss had called him early that morning to say that Vaughn had called and they were okay, but he had no more detail than that. At least now he knew they had been in Madrid. But he also knew they were definitely no longer there.  
  
"This is going to take some time," Dixon finally spoke again, puncturing the silence in the car with his deep voice. "I don't even know where to begin," He shrugged.  
  
Jack turned back to him, his brow knit with concern. "Dixon," He said. "You can't go back to SD-6."  
  
Dixon met his eyes, his expression suddenly showing fear. "Why not?"  
  
"I trust you, Dixon," Jack assured him. "But the CIA may not. Not yet. If you'll allow me, I'll take you in for debriefing, at which point the CIA can determine your future involvement."  
  
"Future involvement?" Dixon echoed. "I don't - I can't-" He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed. "Jack, this is a little much for me to handle all at once."  
  
"You wanted answers, Dixon," Jack reminded him. "Once you saw my daughter, you had to know that any answers you got would not be simple ones."  
  
The truth in those words relaxed Dixon somewhat; he opened his eyes and sank back into the seat, his rigid posture softening. He let down his guard, folding his hands in his lap.  
  
"I trust you, Jack," He said, his head bowed. "I guess at this point I don't really have a choice."  
  
Jack excused himself for a moment to make a quick phone call, climbing out of the car and leaving Dixon alone with his thoughts. He stared out the window, his eyes settling on nothing in particular as his mind skipped through years of memories. In doing so, it paused every so often to mull over a detail that at the time seemed wildly out of place but now merged seamlessly with the fabric of truth Jack had unfurled moments ago. Dixon wondered why he hadn't been able to see any of it before. The answer came to him without much consideration.  
  
People believe what they want to believe.  
  
Dixon realized that during the CIA debriefing, he would learn about those things he had chosen to believe and how untrue they really were. But moreover, he knew he would be reassured that the truth about Sydney Bristow was not simply something he had chosen to believe but was actually something worth believing in. And because of that, he was relieved.  
  
"I love waking up to see your face."  
  
At the sound of Sydney's voice, Vaughn woke from a light sleep, his head snapping up. He blinked a few times to bring her face into focus, then leaned forward in his chair and closed his hand around hers.  
  
"Hey," Vaughn said gently, smiling. "How are you?"  
  
Sydney shifted slightly in the bed, frowning. "I'm sore," She admitted, lightly resting her free hand on her stomach. "What happened?"  
  
Vaughn pulled back suddenly, regarding Sydney with concern. "You don't remember?" He questioned, looking surprised.  
  
Sydney glanced around the small hospital room, her eyes lighting briefly on the closed curtains, the dull gray floor tile, the bright yellow wildflower bouquet in a vase by the bed. Slowly, her memory solidified and she clutched the blanket gathered over her belly, her other hand squeezing Vaughn's.  
  
"The baby," She breathed, her eyes fearful. "How is the baby?"  
  
Vaughn smiled, his eyes wet. He couldn't speak for a moment, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "She's beautiful," He finally said, reaching out to stroke Sydney's cheek. "She's perfect and beautiful."  
  
Sydney bowed her head, her eyes closed as tears came quickly, spilling onto her pale cheeks. Her memory was hazy, but she could recall the hotel room, and slipping into blackness before waking up briefly in the hospital to be told she needed an emergency caesarian section, the words "placental abruption" repeated to her until she swore she understood. She remembered the fear on Vaughn's face and the dread in her heart and the silent bargains she had made with God.  
  
"I want to see her," Sydney said, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.  
  
Vaughn left her bedside to go talk to the nurse. When he returned, he was smiling as he slid back into his seat. "The nurse said they'll change her diaper and then bring her in," He chuckled and then shook his head.  
  
"What?" Sydney asked, smiling also as she reached out to trail her fingers through Vaughn's hair.  
  
"Diapers," He said, shrugging. "Who ever would've thought I'd be concerned with diapers? Seems like a small word for so much responsibility," Vaughn sobered, sighing thoughtfully. "We're parents, Syd," He said.  
  
Sydney took his hand as he offered it. "I know," She nodded, smiling as happiness radiated through her body. It was a wonderful feeling; she allowed herself to wallow in it for a while before chasing it away with thoughts of responsibility. "Michael, what's next?" She questioned, her brow furrowed. "Where are we going?"  
  
Vaughn scooted his chair as close to the bed as possible, taking Sydney's hand in both of his. He leaned towards her, his expression earnest.  
  
"I want to take you home, Sydney," He said.  
  
"What-" Sydney began to protest, her eyes wide. Vaughn stopped her, squeezing her hand.  
  
"Home to France," He clarified. "I'm okay with the fact that our daughter wasn't born there, but I'd really like to raise her there. At least for a while."  
  
Sydney withdrew her hand and gripped the bed sheet, twisting it between her fingers as she thought hard about what Vaughn had said. She could see that what he wanted was to be stable for a while, to pretend a normal life and to exist as just a family, not a family on the run. But in the fabric of this noble desire, Sydney saw nothing but giant holes that left them exposed and vulnerable.  
  
Sydney told Vaughn all of this, her eyes fixed on the blanket clutched in her hands. She did not want to look into his eyes and see disappointment.  
  
Vaughn did not back down. He reached over and placed both of his hands over Sydney's, stopping her nervous fidgeting and forcing her to meet his eyes. "Syd," He said, his tone firm. "I had a lot of time to think while you were asleep. I know people in France I can count on to get us everything we need to disappear there. Please trust me."  
  
Feeling Vaughn's hands on her own and hearing the conviction in his voice stirred a memory for Sydney of sitting on a hard wooden bench in a deserted corridor. He had asked the same thing of her then that he was asking now, just in a different way, for different reasons. Sydney had turned him down then; she would not do the same now.  
  
Before Sydney could speak to give Vaughn her answer, the door to the room squeaked gently as it swung open and a nurse entered. She wheeled in front of her a hospital bassinette, a bundle inside wrapped securely in a soft yellow blanket.  
  
The nurse pushed the bassinette to the opposite side of the bed and smiled up at Vaughn and Sydney. She greeted them in Spanish, then turned and scooped the infant into her arms, careful to smooth down the blanket so Sydney could see the baby's face. The nurse gently laid the tiny bundle in Sydney's arms and then silently left the room so the little family could get to know one another.  
  
As she looked down into her daughter's face, Sydney's heart swelled and her emotions overwhelmed her. She made no attempt to hold back the tears. Her child's face became a blur as she cried, quiet sobs escaping her throat. Vaughn moved from the chair to the bedside, resting his hand on Sydney's thigh, reaching out to gently stroke her hair.  
  
Gazing down at his child, Vaughn smiled proudly. "She's beautiful," He praised. "Just like her mother."  
  
Sydney sniffed and looked up at him, smiling broadly, her disbelief that this perfect baby was theirs giving way to a fierce love that overshadowed any fear she had about their future. She softly cradled the baby against her chest, pulling open the blanket to touch her tiny fingers, watching as the infant's mouth opened to release small crying sounds.  
  
Sydney gasped, amazed at how her child's noises could stir something deep within her. The strongest desire to protect her suddenly overcame Sydney's senses and she pulled the baby even closer with one arm while reaching out to Vaughn with the other. She firmly clutched his hand.  
  
"I trust you, Michael," Sydney said simply, smiling at him through fresh tears. "Take us home."  
  
******  
  
A/N: I'm over the flu (finally!) and able to update sooner this time! Hope you like it. I'm still havin' fun - there's more to come. 


	11. Finding the Way Home

Chapter Eleven: Finding the Way Home  
  
Agent Eric Weiss nudged his office door open with his left foot while juggling a stack of memos, a can of Mountain Dew, a bag of BBQ potato chips, a Hostess Twinkie, and a tuna sandwich wrapped in cellophane. He was concentrating on these things and did not notice Jack Bristow slip in the door behind him until he reached his desk and turned around, at which point he started and swore under his breath.  
  
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Weiss questioned, his eyebrows raised.  
  
Jack eyed the items Weiss carried. "No, but you are," He said coolly.  
  
Weiss narrowed his eyes. "Thanks," He said, though he did not mean it. "I'm finally able to eat solid food again. I'm going to enjoy it."  
  
Jack took a seat in front of Weiss's desk and folded his hands in his lap. "A lot has been going on during the three days you've been gone," He said. "I'm sure you've heard."  
  
"A little," Weiss nodded, sitting down and opening the can of Mountain Dew. "Great job on getting Dixon to come in."  
  
"I gave him little choice," Jack replied. "He's not enjoying the debrief process, but I don't think I would, either, had I just learned that everything I believed was a complete fabrication."  
  
Weiss just nodded as he shuffled through the memos on his desktop, discarding those that had no direct bearing on him. He then unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite, raising his eyes to glance at Jack. He knew there was more, and he was patient to wait. Jack Bristow wasn't the sort of guy who just dropped by to chat.  
  
Jack could sense that Weiss was not going to draw him out. He shifted in the chair and cleared his throat.  
  
"I'd like to know where my daughter is," He said quietly.  
  
Weiss looked up sharply, his eyes suddenly dark. "I don't know what you're talking about," He said. He took another bite of the sandwich, averting his eyes as Jack leaned forward in his chair.  
  
"You told me three days ago that you had spoken to Vaughn," He said, his voice low. "I'm sure he must've told you where they are."  
  
Weiss was suddenly angry. "Officially, Jack, I don't know what you're talking about," He looked towards the open office door and then pointedly at Jack. "I can't help you."  
  
Understanding completely, Jack reached back and pushed the door shut, waiting until it closed with a resounding metallic click before he spoke again.  
  
"Can you help me now?"  
  
Weiss took a long swallow of his soda before met Jack's eyes. "I was welcomed back this morning by a sit-down with Devlin," He explained. "His secretary told him how you were running all over LA looking for me, and he put two and two together and wanted me to tell him everything I knew about Vaughn and Sydney's disappearance." Weiss cautiously glanced towards his door as he heard voices in the hallway. When it was quiet again, he went on. "I told him that I don't know anything. So, officially, Jack, I don't know anything."  
  
Jack sighed. "Weiss-"  
  
"I could lose my job, Jack," Weiss stated plainly. "You do realize that the CIA is taking measures to find them. If they ever do, they'll be lucky if they don't face official sanction and possible criminal prosecution."  
  
Jack studied Weiss' s face carefully, reading behind his eyes, sensing there was more to the story. He stood up and opened the door. Before walking out, he turned to face Weiss once again.   
  
"There's a bar down the block, on the corner," Jack said off-handedly. "I like to go there after work sometimes, to unwind." With that, he was gone and Weiss was alone, smiling as he finished his tuna sandwich.  
  
Sutton's was more of a pub than a bar, a smoky, dark wood paneled retreat from the bright, sun-washed world of southern California. When Weiss walked in the front door at half-past six o'clock, he was greeted by a rush of air conditioning and a darkness that forced him to remove his sunglasses to keep from being blind.  
  
Taking a few steps inside, Weiss scanned the patrons at the deep mahogany bar and then turned his attention to the high-walled booths bordering the large space. He spotted Jack in a corner booth and quickly made his way over.  
  
"You're a sharp one, Agent Weiss," Jack said as Weiss slid into the seat across from him. Jack lifted a pint glass half-full of an amber lager and tipped it slightly towards Weiss. "Cheers," He said before taking a drink.  
  
A waitress appeared, and Weiss gave his order. He then waited for her to leave before speaking. "You understand, then, what a tough spot I'm in," He said.  
  
"I'm surprised it's taken this long for Devlin to question you," Jack replied.  
  
Weiss shook his head. "It hasn't. Right after Vaughn and Syd split, I was called in and asked if I knew anything. I gave him the same answer then that I gave him this morning." He smiled as the waitress dropped off a bottle of Heineken. Weiss took a sip before continuing. "Apparently, Kendall has been spitting nails about the SD-6 operation going sour. When you were compromised, he ran to Devlin and demanded that he get to the bottom of it. Kendall had a suspicion that all this stemmed from Sloane searching out Sydney."  
  
"Do they know Sloane found her?"  
  
"No," Weiss was quick to answer, sensing Jack's concern. "Not for now, at least. You know Sloane will keep looking."  
  
Jack nodded as he turned his beer glass in a slow circle between his hands. "That's why I want to know where they are and where they're headed. I'm already being hunted by SD-6 security section. Protecting me is no longer an issue."  
  
Weiss took a deep breath, sinking back against the seat cushion. "That's what I have to tell you, Jack," He said slowly. "Vaughn called me last night - for the last time."  
  
Jack didn't react at first; he simply watched Weiss's face for a smile or a wink, something to indicate that he was joking. When no sign appeared, he sat back, also, a shadow passing over his face.   
  
"What do you mean, `for the last time'?"  
  
"They're disappearing completely, Jack," Weiss explained. "Vaughn said that after Madrid, they refuse to take any more chances. The stakes are higher now, and they want to protect themselves as well as me. He said that the only way he'd contact me now is in the case of an extreme emergency."  
  
This news hung in the air between them for some time. Weiss quietly sipped his beer while Jack just stared down at the tabletop, his face masking his disappointment.  
  
"Well," Jack said finally, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a ten- dollar bill and dropped it on the table. "Thank you, Agent Weiss, for your help." He drained the beer glass and set it heavily on the wooden table.   
  
"Hey, Jack," Weiss grinned. "You should try calling me Eric."  
  
Jack was not devoid of humor. "Only if you promise that you will never again call me Uncle Jack," He said, the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile.  
  
"It's a deal," Weiss nodded. He sensed that Jack wanted to leave, so he reached into his breast pocket, smiling as he did. He had saved the best news for last, just as Sydney had instructed him to do. "Before you go," Weiss said, catching Jack just as he stood up. "Syd and Vaughn had me pick up something for you."  
  
Jack sat back down, sliding slowly into the booth as he studied the object Weiss held out to him. It was a pink bubblegum cigar, and Jack was confused by it until he reached out and took it. He turned it over in his hands and read aloud the words embossed on the gold seal that encircled it.  
  
"It's a girl."  
  
A light drizzle fell as Sydney Bristow walked the village path, the stones wet and slightly slippery beneath the soles of her hiking boots. The air was crisp and the rain cold as banks of gray winter clouds rolled across the sky. The pale, late morning sun was in hiding, leaving in its place a chill Sydney could not shake even as she picked up her pace and huddled within her dark blue rain slicker.  
  
Pushing aside thoughts of the weather, Sydney pressed on, the path before her stretching on into dense foliage. Sydney ducked beneath an overhanging branch and almost lost her footing, steadying herself with a hand against a nearby tree trunk. Had the weather been slightly better, she would have enjoyed this walk, just as she had done many times before. But on this day she was replete with reflective, ponderous thoughts and didn't have patience for the tingling cold in her fingertips and toes.  
  
At a place where a fork appeared in the path, Sydney veered to the right, taking the trail less traveled where the rocks were sharper, the edges overgrown with grass and weeds. She made her way carefully, raising her eyes to a plume of smoke that appeared ahead above a hedge of evergreens. Sydney moved on, the promise of warmth pushing her forward.  
  
The path continued through the hedge and came into a clearing where a little house sat, secluded and surrounded by tall pine trees. Sydney approached the back door, pausing to gather firewood in her arms from the pile stacked against the house. After pushing the door open, she closed it again with her hip, leaning against it until she heard it latch.  
  
After dropping the firewood into a waiting metal bin, Sydney straightened and listened for noise. She heard the quiet murmur of voices, deep within the house, and was momentarily comforted by the familiarity of it. This was the time of day when Vaughn would be watching the local French news broadcast while preparing lesson plans for the afternoon classes he taught at the village school. Sydney thought of this as she shook off her rain slicker and hung it on a hook by the door before slipping out of her boots and walking, sock-footed, into the cozy kitchen.  
  
Sydney glanced at the wall clock as she went to the sink to rinse dirt from her hands. It was almost noon, and as she reached for a towel, she hoped the baby would nap a while longer. Vaughn would leave at around one o'clock and Sydney wished for peace and quiet after he was gone, just long enough for her to immerse herself inside her melancholy mood and exist in her thoughts for a while.  
  
Standing at the kitchen window, Sydney gazed out at the rain. It was falling harder now, large drops splashing against the glass pane. She frowned, unhappy with her own mood, confused by her sadness. Nothing bad had happened; this was a day like many other days, waking up in this house with the man she loved and the child their love had created. There was no reason to be unhappy, but on this day, for some unknown reason, she wore it like an old pair of slippers, a comfort she wished to sink into when no one else was around.  
  
Sydney turned from the window, crossing her arms over her chest as she shivered inside her thick gray sweater. The cold outside had seemed to seep into her bones. Crossing the room to the stove, she reached for the copper teakettle where it sat in its usual spot on the back burner. Sydney stopped short when she realized the burner was on, the kettle hot. She brought her hands close to it, soaking up the delicious warmth while puzzling over the water that was about to boil. Vaughn was not a tea drinker; he never put the kettle on unless Sydney requested it.  
  
The kettle suddenly began to whistle, and Sydney watched it for a moment, finally drawing back to turn off the burner. As she did, she heard footsteps behind her on the hardwood floor and she turned her head, smiling as Vaughn appeared in the kitchen doorway.  
  
He stopped short, watching her for a moment as she removed the kettle from the heated burner. "I didn't hear you come back," Vaughn said quietly.  
  
"Somehow you knew I'd be cold," Sydney said, smiling still. The idea of Vaughn doing something sweet for her, like heating water in anticipation of her return, temporarily pushed her sadness into the far corners of her mind. She went to the cupboard and got herself a teacup and a tea bag. Setting them on the counter top, she glanced up at Vaughn once more as she reached into the utensil drawer for a spoon.  
  
"You might want to get another cup," He said, watching her carefully.  
  
Sydney stopped on her way back to the stove, narrowing her eyes. "Why?" She asked, Vaughn's quiet demeanor and watchful eyes suddenly striking her as suspicious.  
  
It was then that she heard it, movement in the next room, footsteps on the hardwood, the creak and sigh of the old couch as someone sat down upon it. Sydney locked eyes with Vaughn, a look of panic overtaking her face. It was all she could do to gingerly set the spoon on the countertop; her first instinct was to fight, to protect the life of her child.  
  
Vaughn quickly came to her, putting a hand over hers. "It's okay," He assured her, looping his free arm around her waist, gently rubbing her back. "Sydney," Vaughn leaned in and kissed her ear. "Your father is here."  
  
Sydney fell away from him, almost losing her balance. As she gripped the counter top for support, her eyes searched Vaughn's face for any sign that he was kidding. When she found none, she immediately pushed past him and nearly ran into the living room. Jack Bristow quickly got to his feet as Sydney rushed to him, tears filling her eyes as she threw her arms around her father.  
  
"Dad," She breathed, pressing her face into his shoulder, the wool of his sweater rough on her cheek. She inhaled the familiar scent of his aftershave, felt the reassuring strength of his arms around her back and immediately she knew. She understood then what all the sadness had been about, the melancholy that had colored her day until this point. She had been homesick, lonely for the places and the people she could not see.  
  
Until now.  
  
"Sydney," Jack said her name as though it were a prayer, his voice catching in his throat. He had nearly forgotten how well his daughter filled his arms and his heart when she allowed him an embrace. He knew no better feeling.  
  
Vaughn watched all this from the doorway, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. The real thing far exceeded the image he'd held in his mind the moment Jack had walked into the house an hour before, just a few short minutes after Sydney had left through the back door for her daily walk through town.  
  
"Dad," Sydney finally pulled back from him, his image blurry through her tears. "How?" She questioned. "When? I was only gone for a little while," She accepted his handkerchief as he held it out to her and quickly wiped her eyes. "How did you find us?"  
  
Jack smiled. "It wasn't easy," He conceded. "I've been searching for you for six months."  
  
In the next few minutes, Sydney and her father situated themselves on the couch, warm cups of tea in their hands. Vaughn had pulled over an easy chair and sat facing them, his lesson plans and the daily news forgotten. He'd heard most of the story already, but he knew he could not resist hearing Jack tell it again.  
  
Jack detailed all the places in France he had been, the many times he'd felt he was close to them but not close enough. "It wasn't until I came across one of your contacts," Jack said, glancing up at Vaughn. "He let it slip that you had changed your names and forged your documentation to appear that you were French citizens. He wouldn't tell me the names you'd chosen, but he gave me a tip as to what part of the country I should concentrate on."  
  
"He didn't know our names," Vaughn interjected. "I didn't tell him for this very reason."  
  
Jack smiled at that. "It turns out he didn't need to," He said. "He had good information concerning what job you might be doing, and where," Jack paused. "It was only a matter of time before I traced you to this village, to the school where there was a new English teacher."  
  
Sydney's eyes were wide as she glanced from her father to Vaughn and back again. "And the school told you where we live," She guessed.  
  
"No," Jack said. "Actually, they wouldn't tell me anything but your name. And then it was just a matter of asking around town until I found someone who seemed to remember that Henri and Audra Laurent lived in a cottage in the forest."  
  
The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the mantle above the fireplace as Sydney and Vaughn exchanged surprised glances and Jack sipped his tea. Sydney turned back to him, her eyes drinking him in, her mind full of disbelief that her father was actually sitting there, sharing space with her. It had just been a year since she'd last seen him, although at times it felt like decades.  
  
"Dad," Sydney spoke up suddenly, her voice halting. "How's Mom?"  
  
At the mention of Irina Derevko, Vaughn quickly stood, glancing at the watch on his wrist. "Syd," He said. "I have to go to school." He bent to kiss her cheek, after which he shook hands with Jack. "You'll stay for dinner?"  
  
"Of course," Jack nodded, inwardly grateful for the invitation. Many times he had imagined this reunion, often with an outcome far different from the one he was actually experiencing. The fact that it was going so well flooded him with relief.  
  
Sydney saw Vaughn to the back door, watching him walk down the stony trail until he disappeared from view beyond the evergreen hedge. Turning back into the house, Sydney called her father into the kitchen where they settled at the cozy kitchen table and resumed their conversation.  
  
"Your mother is doing well," Jack said, stirring honey into his tea. "She continues to be helpful to the CIA, providing intel when necessary," He lifted his eyes to Sydney's, seeing in her face she was hungry for news. "She actually helped me try to find you, six months ago when I made the decision to start looking."  
  
Sydney smiled to herself, the image of her parents collaborating on anything still foreign, yet welcome, to her. She sobered quickly as a question came to her mind, one she had wondered about for several months.  
  
"Six months ago, that was after Madrid," Sydney stated. She stared down at her hands as she wrapped them tightly around her teacup. "Dad, do you know what happened with Dixon? When he got back to SD-6?"  
  
Jack was not surprised. He had anticipated Sydney's concern and was quick to reassure her. He told her about Dixon seeking him out and about Dixon's reaction to learning the truth. "He was receptive, after a while," Jack said. "I took him in to the CIA, and he's working for us now."  
  
Sydney's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "He's CIA?"  
  
Jack nodded. "He's been working inside SD-6 as a double agent," He confirmed. Jack paused before going on, letting Sydney grasp the idea of Dixon taking her place in the fight against Arvin Sloane and the Alliance. It was a thought that felt good to her, and she turned it over in her mind several times, the weight of it displacing months of worry about her ex- partner and the things he had seen in Madrid.  
  
Jack went on when he sensed Sydney relax inside the knowledge he had given her. "I'm sure Weiss told you how I tried to warn you after I was compromised," He said. Sydney nodded, and he continued. "After that, I felt rather non-productive. I had to stay in hiding most of the time, living in a CIA safe house. I was miserable. Devlin called me in and encouraged me to take a leave of absence, so I decided to travel Europe and try to locate you at the same time."  
  
"You've been on leave for six months?" Sydney questioned, amazed by her father's dedication to locating her.  
  
Jack shook his head. "No," He said, smiling slightly. "Devlin wouldn't allow it. I returned after one month and I've been working as Dixon's handler since that time."  
  
Sydney was quiet for a moment, thinking of the work Dixon was doing. "Dad, about SD-6-"   
  
"We're close," Jack interrupted. He met Sydney's eyes as she looked up at him questioningly. "Dixon is doing great work, and we've recently learned that there may be a hidden server that links all the SD cells. The CIA is working to find it, and when we do, the ramifications could be huge."  
  
Sydney sank back into her chair, this new information settling inside of her like a long-lost puzzle piece. It was the answer to many questions and yet the catalyst for many more. Along side of that, Sydney was knicked by the sharp edge of doubt that often assailed her when she paused to think about the life she'd led before.  
  
"I should be a part of it," Sydney said suddenly, completely letting down her guard, preparing to share feelings with her father that she dared not share with Vaughn. "I get that sense every once in a while, that the work began by me should also be completed by me."  
  
Jack was troubled by her words. "Don't tell me you regret leaving that life," He said.  
  
"No, I don't regret it," Sydney leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I just wonder at the wisdom of leaving my job unfinished." She rubbed her eyes, frustrated by the absence of the words she needed to correctly shape her thoughts.  
  
"Dixon's finishing it," Jack said then, reaching across the table to lightly touch his fingers to Sydney's arm. "If your doubts are stemming from a desire to take down Arvin Sloane, that I can understand. Dixon shares that desire with you. He's doing everything he can to complete the task that you and Vaughn started."  
  
Sydney was comforted by his words and his gentle tone. She reached out and grasped her father's hand, squeezing it tightly. It was then that Jack noticed the simple yellow gold band on the fourth finger of her left hand.  
  
Sydney followed Jack's gaze and smiled softly. "Christmas Day," She said. "In a cathedral in Montrichard."  
  
Unexpected emotions rose up in Jack as he remained quiet, a smile on his lips as he looked at the ring and the smile on his daughter's face. The kind of thoughts that almost never entered his mind passed through, leaving one behind that seemed to touch him in a place within that he vaguely knew but had never visited. Without thinking, he spoke it aloud.  
  
"I didn't get to walk you down the aisle."  
  
Sydney smiled as her eyes filled with tears. "It's okay, Dad," She said, reaching to squeeze his hand once again. "I got married under a fake name. It's not even legal in the United States. If I ever go back to LA, we'll have to do it all over again, so you'll get your chance then."  
  
Jack laughed outright, Sydney's reassurance striking him as humorous. It was all he could do sometimes, to stay sane within the life he led. Occasionally, he just needed to laugh. Sydney found it infectious and joined in, both of them forgetting to be quiet. As their chuckles trailed off, the sound of a baby's cry floated in from another room and Sydney quickly got to her feet.  
  
"I'm glad she's awake," She said, smiling, tears still rimming her dark eyes. "I can't wait to introduce the two of you. I'll be right back."  
  
Jack waited patiently while Sydney tended to the baby, changing her, wrapping her tightly in a soft pink blanket. When she reappeared in the kitchen, the sweet bundle in her arms, Jack couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath. The baby was beautiful, her head covered in golden brown curls, her green eyes alert as she took in the sight of this stranger in their house.  
  
"Dad," Sydney came to him, holding the baby out to place into his waiting arms. "This is your granddaughter, Ava Miette Vaughn," She released the child to Jack, his arms encircling her as he cradled her against his body. Sydney then pulled her chair close to her father's and looked into her daughter's eyes. "Ava, this is your grandfather," She spoke the sentence in perfect French, reaching out to lightly brush a curl away from Ava's forehead.  
  
"Ava Miette," Jack repeated the name softly, gazing down at his granddaughter. "A beautiful name for a beautiful baby."  
  
Sydney couldn't help the tears that slipped down her cheeks. She did nothing to stop them as she watched her father get to know her daughter, an image she had dreamed about many times since the baby had been born. To see it in person was an indescribable gift.  
  
Jack and baby Ava spent the afternoon together, Jack gracious to care for Ava as Sydney attended to a few household chores. She paused every once in a while to check in on them, gazing from the doorway as Jack entertained the baby with her plastic blocks or read to her from French children's books. Sydney marveled at how easily it came to him, the compassion and caring he showered on the child. She didn't question where it came from because she suspected she knew; regret can often make you attempt to do things better the second time around.  
  
Vaughn arrived home at around four-thirty and immediately went looking for Ava. It was a daily ritual; he kissed his wife hello and then sought out his child, his desire to spend time with her having built up all afternoon, his thoughts on her even as he had taught his classes. He found Ava in her crib, Jack standing over her with a stuffed animal, making her giggle as he danced it along the wooden side railing.  
  
Sydney was in the kitchen when Jack walked in, his hands in his pockets, his eyes shining. Sydney watched, pleased. She could not remember ever seeing her father this content.  
  
"You speak French to her, primarily?" Jack asked, sitting down at the table and accepting another cup of tea as Sydney set it before him. She nodded as she turned back to the stove.  
  
"We want her to learn English, as well, but it's safer for our cover if she speaks mainly French," Sydney picked up a wooden spoon and lifted the lid off of a pot of beef stew.  
  
"I think you have a while before she starts talking," Jack interjected good- naturedly.  
  
"Oh, no," Vaughn sang out as he entered the kitchen, Ava in his arms. "She's a genius baby, Jack. She'll be talking before she turns one!" He lifted Ava high into the air, wiggling her back and forth over his head until she giggled, following that with a hearty burp.  
  
"Careful," Sydney warned, adding chopped carrots to the stew pot. "She's got a full tummy. I just fed her a half-hour ago."  
  
"Do you need help with dinner?" Vaughn asked, nuzzling Ava's neck, kissing her rosy cheeks as he cradled her against his shoulder.  
  
"No, I'm fine. Go play," Sydney smiled, knowing she couldn't keep him from it if she tired.  
  
"Ahhh! It's Super Baby!" Vaughn held Ava out before him and swooped her through the air as he left the kitchen, heading back towards the nursery. Jack and Sydney watched him go, chuckling quietly.  
  
The room grew quiet, the only sound the stew bubbling gently on the stovetop. Sydney replaced the lid and wiped her hands on a dishtowel before preparing herself another cup of tea. She brought it to the table just as Jack looked up at her, his eyes dark with feeling.  
  
"Is he a good father?" He asked, breaking the silence between them.  
  
Sydney was caught off-guard by the question, never before having given it much thought. "Yes," She answered, her voice rich with sincerity. "He's an excellent father."  
  
Jack nodded as he grasped his teacup firmly, studying the surface of the hot beverage as it danced with reflections of the overhead light. "That's good," He said. Meeting Sydney's eyes, he spoke again, his voice bearing traces of regret. "We should always strive to give our children more than we had ourselves."  
  
Sydney once again pulled a chair close to her father and sat down, reaching to rest her hand on his arm. "You're a good father, Dad," She said, heavy with emotion as tears stung her eyes.  
  
"No, I'm not," Jack shook his head, holding up a hand to his daughter as she tried to interrupt. "I tried to keep you from all this," He told her, looking around the room. "I tried to hold you back from living a life. I told myself I was protecting you, but - protecting you from what? Happiness? Love?"  
  
"Dad, I don't hold any of that against you," Sydney asserted. "You were doing what you thought was right."  
  
"But I was wrong," Jack said forcefully. "I was wrong, and look at all I've missed out on," He looked away from her then, unable to meet her eyes. "I purposefully kept myself out of your life from the time you were six until just three years ago. And then I lost another year with you because I felt it was my right to influence a senate committee in order to keep you from repeating a mistake that I made years before you were even born."  
  
"Dad-"  
  
"No, Sydney, wait," Jack finally met her eyes again, pain etched into every detail of his face. "I'm sorry," He said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm truly sorry."  
  
Sydney was frozen to her chair, stunned by her father's apology. "Dad," She said, finally finding her voice. "I have happiness, and I have love. The only thing you kept me from the past year is you. And now you're here. There's no reason for you to apologize."  
  
"You're happy, then?" Jack questioned, the shadow of doubt starting to lift from his eyes.  
  
"Yes," Sydney assured him. "It's been hard, this past year. I won't deny that. But I think most of the difficulty has come from homesickness. I've missed you, and Will, and Francie, and my mother," She watched as Jack's eyes dropped to the tabletop at the mention of Irina. Sydney followed his gaze, giving herself a chance to organize her thoughts. "I think that's why I said what I did earlier about SD-6. I don't really miss the double life and lying to everyone. Sometimes I just miss things that are familiar, like Will's messy hair and Francie's killer apple pie. And you, Dad. I miss you."  
  
Jack looked up again as Sydney reached out to give his arm a squeeze. "I'm glad you're happy," He said finally. He thought for a moment before he added, "And I miss you, too."  
  
"Damn Arvin Sloane," Sydney said, a flash of anger propelling her words. "I wish putting a bullet in his brain would solve this, but I know it wouldn't. The Alliance would still exist, and Vaughn and I would still have to live this nomad life, moving around every few weeks."  
  
"We're close," Jack assured her, sipping his tea. "If we can find this supposed secret server, it could be the thread we can pull to unravel the whole damn thing."  
  
"I hope that's true," Vaughn said from behind them as he entered the kitchen. "Ava's asleep again," He told Sydney. "I think Jack wore her out this afternoon."  
  
Sydney got up from the table to finish preparing dinner. Vaughn set the table for her, then sliced a loaf of crusty French bread while she served up bowls of the delicious smelling stew. During the meal, the conversation bounced from one topic to the next, touching on the weather and the French countryside before inevitably returning to Los Angeles and the world of espionage.  
  
"You will eventually return, won't you?" Jack asked hopefully, glancing from Sydney to Vaughn. "Once SD-6 and the Alliance have been dismantled?"  
  
"I'd love to go back, at least to visit," Vaughn admitted. He grabbed another slice of bread before continuing. "I'd like Ava to experience America and have a chance to live there for a while. But the last time I spoke to Weiss, which was quite a while ago, he said that Devlin was not about to let bygones be bygones."  
  
"We couldn't return to our jobs at the CIA," Sydney put in, reaching for the pitcher to refill Jack's water glass. "Not that I want to," She said, glancing at Vaughn.  
  
"I might want to," He said suddenly. "If we decided to stay there for a while," He turned to Jack. "But they wouldn't take me, I'm sure. I didn't report for reassignment; we abandoned our jobs."  
  
"The CIA isn't your average employer, Vaughn," Jack reminded him, setting down his spoon. "You could possibly be accepted back, after you'd completed an extensive debriefing, complete with rigorous psychological testing and polygraphic examinations."  
  
"Oh, is that all?" Vaughn joked as he stood up from the table.  
  
Jack smiled. "They would just want to be sure that you hadn't been working for the enemy during your time away," He explained. "I think once you'd proven that you hadn't, Devlin would accept you back. He'd chain you to a desk for a long period of time, but he would allow you to return."  
  
"Weiss led us to believe Devlin was out for blood," Sydney said, getting up and beginning to clear the table.  
  
"He's only responding to pressure being applied by Kendall," Jack told her, handing her his empty bowl. "His SD-6 operation was nearly destroyed, after you left and I was compromised. It made him look bad, and he wants to return the favor."  
  
"Well, that settles it, then," Vaughn sighed heavily, returning to the table after tossing another log into the fireplace in the living room. "We can't return even if SD-6 and the Alliance are eliminated. The second we do, and Kendall catches wind of it, we'll be hauled in before the IOC. And I, for one, am not going through that again."  
  
Sydney sympathized with every word he spoke. Returning to face the Intelligence Oversight Committee would be steps in a circle that she would go to any lengths to avoid, even if it meant never setting foot in Los Angeles again. The very thought of that was painful to her, and she quickly turned back to the dishes, eager for distraction.  
  
Jack pushed back his chair and crossed his legs, watching the troubled faces of his daughter and son-in-law. He cleared his throat before sharing news that he expected they would find as nothing but good.  
  
"Kendall is retiring in a year," Jack said off-handedly, implying nothing and everything all at once. "It's already been decided, regardless of how well the SD-6 operation goes between now and then."  
  
Sydney and Vaughn both raised their eyes to Jack, watching him curiously. Sydney was the first to speak.  
  
"Do you think SD-6 and the Alliance will be toppled by then?" She asked hopefully.  
  
Jack shrugged. "Honestly, I do, especially if this new information pans out."  
  
Vaughn's eyes narrowed as he lost himself in deep thought for a few moments. "My better judgment tells me not to ask questions," He ventured, looking up at Jack. "But I can't help it. Who first heard about the alleged secret server?"  
  
The two men traded ideas back and forth for the next few minutes, Jack offering facts and suspicions while Vaughn put in his opinion and asked questions. Sydney started to wash the dinner dishes, filling the sink with warm, sudsy water. She couldn't help but smile as she stood listening to the two most important men in her life debating the finer points of bringing down an evil counter-intelligence organization. In any other life, it would have been ludicrous. In hers, it felt like home.  
  
******  
  
A/N: Well, this has been an absolute blast. Sorry for the delay before updating; I pondered over this chapter for quite a while. I hope the wait was worth it. 


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
As the rented minivan pulled up to the curb, slowing to a stop, Sydney Bristow raised her head and shielded her eyes with her hand, squinting behind her dark sunglasses. The afternoon sun, low in the western sky, appeared to be perched upon the roof of the house as she gazed at it. The home was ablaze with brilliant orange and yellow.  
  
Sydney unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to Vaughn. He was in the drivers seat, peering past Sydney at the house. When he realized she was now looking at him, he smiled and reached over to take her hand.  
  
"Nervous?" He asked, the one word question breaking the silence they'd held since leaving the airport. A combination of nerves and curiosity had kept them quiet as they'd navigated the city streets, watching the roads and neighborhoods they'd not seen for two and a half years.  
  
"Yeah," Sydney admitted. "I am, a little. Is that stupid?" She glanced back at the house. She knew that nothing malevolent lurked within, but that knowledge did not stop her palms from becoming damp with perspiration.  
  
"No, it's not stupid," Vaughn assured her, gently stroking her chestnut hair. "It's completely understandable."  
  
Sydney smiled before leaning towards Vaughn and kissing his lips. He kissed her back, and when they parted, he gently placed his hand on her cheek.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you," Sydney echoed. She caught his hand as he pulled away. "I'm gonna go up to the door. Will you bring Ava?"  
  
The couple glanced into the backseat where their daughter sat in a car seat, sleeping soundly, her honey curls glowing in the sunlight streaming through the rear windows.  
  
"Yeah, I'll get her," Vaughn said quietly. "Go ahead." He nodded to Sydney and she smiled at him before opening the car door and climbing out, once again squinting up at the house. She took a moment to close the car door and straighten her gauzy summer dress before striding confidently across the lush, green lawn toward the front door.  
  
Her feet on the welcome mat, her knees slightly weak, Sydney raised her hand and knocked, swallowing hard. The waiting seemed endless, and she occupied herself with scanning the outside of the home, noting to herself that nothing much had changed. After a minute or two, she knocked again, and then moved to a front window a few feet away to peer inside.  
  
What Sydney could see of the interior looked the same to her, as well, and her heart skipped a beat at the familiar sight. Suddenly she was eager to go inside, to reconnect with parts of her past life, to touch things in the place that had once been her safe haven from a crazy, heart-breaking world. She was disappointed to see no movement within the house, but she thought she could hear faint music as she pulled back from the window.  
  
Turning towards the street, Sydney waved to Vaughn as he got out of the drivers seat and walked around to the passenger side of the car to retrieve Ava from her car seat.  
  
"I'm going around back," Sydney called, pointing toward the side of the house. Vaughn nodded that he understood, and Sydney walked off, finding the narrow track of grass between the house and the property line. She followed it, the music growing louder the closer she came to the backyard.  
  
Rounding the corner of the house, Sydney stopped in her tracks. Along the back porch was a wide flowerbed full of blooming plants, each one beautiful. Sydney couldn't help but smile; she had always wanted to plant there but had never found the time. It was obvious that someone else had, however, and Sydney's eyes quickly fell upon her as she kneeled in the grass, reaching in between the plants to extract weeds and fallen blooms.  
  
Francie Calfo grabbed one last handful of weeds and then leaned back on her heels, dropping the unwanted plants into a yard waste bag at her side. She then reached up through the rungs of the porch railing and turned off the radio. The intermittent static was beginning to annoy her. Returning to the flowerbed, content with the sudden quiet, she was unaware that someone stood behind her, watching as she worked.  
  
"In all the time I've known you, I've never suspected that you have a green thumb."  
  
Francie snapped her head up from her work, startled at first by the voice behind her and then even more surprised that it was a voice she recognized. She stopped short of turning around, drawing in a sharp breath, trying to decide if what she'd heard was real. It was almost too good to be true.  
  
Slowly, Francie turned her head. "Sydney?!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Oh my god! Sydney!" In an instant, Francie was on her feet and rushing to engulf her in a hug.  
  
Sydney couldn't stop grinning, even when her cheeks began to ache. She threw her arms around Francie and held on tight, warmth spreading from her heart through her whole body.  
  
By the time they parted, both women were in tears. They pulled back just far enough to get a good look, their eyes resting on each other's faces as they tried hard to continue smiling through the onslaught of tears.  
  
"Oh, Francie," Sydney sighed, grasping her hands. "It's so good to see you," She said, her chin quivering. "I almost can't believe it."  
  
"I thought you were never coming back," Francie confessed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's been so long. I was so afraid-" She couldn't go on, emotion overwhelming her. Sydney pulled her into another hug, and that was how they stood as the back door of the house opened and Will Tippin walked out onto the porch.  
  
"Hey, Fran," He called, not looking up from a notebook he held in his hands. "I think I found something. Wait until you hear-" At that moment, he raised his eyes and stopped cold, his voice catching in his throat. The notebook hit the porch with a loud slap as Will abandoned it and bounded out into the grass, taking the steps two at a time.  
  
"Sydney!" He shouted, reaching her just as Francie pulled back, allowing Will to sweep Sydney into his arms. He nearly crushed her, hugging her tightly as she threw her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his and placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek.  
  
"Will," Sydney breathed his name, the familiarity of his arms putting long lost pieces inside of her back into place. She couldn't stop smiling, the sight of her two dearest friends the most wonderful thing she had seen in a very long time.  
  
"Sydney," Will said again, her name sweet like candy on his tongue. "When did you get here? I can't believe you're here. This is so great!" His words came rapid-fire, helpless to stop them. "This is unbelievable," He turned to Francie. "Did you know she was coming?"  
  
"No, she just showed up," Francie was still wiping tears from her eyes, smiling at them both, her heart filled to nearly overflowing.  
  
Sydney was about to say something when Vaughn appeared around the corner of the house, Ava riding high in his arms. Will and Francie looked up at him, dumbstruck, their mouths hanging open.  
  
"Mama!" Ava declared, opening her arms wide as Vaughn grew near.  
  
Sydney reached out and took her daughter into her arms and then turned back to her friends, nearly laughing outright at their amazed expressions. Motioning back towards Vaughn, she began to introduce them all.  
  
"Michael, this is Francie Calfo. Francie, this is my husband, Michael Vaughn," Sydney paused as Vaughn and Francie shook hands, exchanging pleasant greetings. "And Will, you know Vaughn, but neither of you have met our daughter," Sydney shifted Ava from one hip to the other. "This is Ava Miette Vaughn," She then looked into Ava's eyes and pointed to her friends before saying, in French, "Ava, this is mama's friend Francie and mama's friend Will."  
  
Francie and Will smiled at each other before turning to Ava, smiling brightly. In turn, they shook her hand, saying hello. She grinned broadly, showing off her tiny teeth before letting out with a loud bellow, throwing all of her small, two-year-old body into it.  
  
"Bonjour!"  
  
Francie and Will laughed, watching as Sydney set a squirming Ava onto the grass. She paused for a moment to get her bearings, then she took off, running as fast as her little legs would take her. Vaughn grinned at the group and then took off after her to make sure she didn't get into any trouble.  
  
"She's two, what can I say," Sydney shrugged, watching them go. When she turned back to her friends, she drew in a sharp breath when she realized that Francie was crying again. "Fran," Sydney said gently. "What is it?"  
  
"I'm so happy for you, Syd," Francie said, reaching out to grasp Sydney's hand. "It's everything you wanted, isn't it?"  
  
Sydney just nodded, suddenly unable to speak, a sizeable lump in her throat.  
  
"We missed you, Syd," Will said, his blue eyes bright as he lightly rested a hand on her shoulder. "But if this is the payoff for missing you, then I'd gladly do it again, in a heartbeat. It's easy to see how happy you are."  
  
Sydney let the tears spill over and run down her cheeks as both Francie and Will pulled her close, the three of them clinging to each other as emotions ran strong and deep. Finally pulling back, Sydney wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath.  
  
"So," She said brightly, attempting to change the subject so she could get a handle on her feelings. "How are you two?" Looking from Francie to Will, she raised her eyebrows in question, a thought occurring to her. "Wait, Will, are you still living here?"  
  
Will laughed. "Yes, I am," He replied, sliding an arm around Francie's shoulders. "Francie can't bear not having a man around the house," He joked.  
  
"That's partially true," Francie said, looking sideways at Will. "The other part is this," She raised her left hand to show Sydney a diamond ring. "Will and I are getting married."  
  
"Oh my god!" Sydney clamped both hands over her mouth. "You guys really have to stop this," She demanded teasingly, new tears rimming her eyes. "My eyes are really starting to itch. I don't want to cry anymore!" She hugged them both again, then pulled back to examine the ring. "This is lovely," She praised. "How did this happen?"  
  
"Well," Francie said, grinning slyly. "We were already shacking up, so we decided to make something out of it."  
  
The three friends laughed, and Will shook his head. "That's not exactly how it happened," He said, grinning as he took Francie's hand into his and kissed it. Sydney just sighed, her heart full. She couldn't believe she had been nervous about this reunion; it was proving to be nothing but wonderful.  
  
Vaughn and Ava soon returned to the small group, Ava now content in her father's arms as she gazed around the backyard and at the faces of the new people she had met. Pointing up towards a nearby tree, she began to talk in French, her little girl voice sweet and melodic.  
  
"What's she saying?" Will asked, following Ava's outstretched arm and gazing up at the treetop.  
  
"There's a bird in the tree," Sydney explained. "She's asking why. It's her new favorite question. She asks why about everything."  
  
"Does she speak English?" Francie wanted to know.  
  
"A little," Vaughn answered, smiling as his daughter grasped his cheeks in her tiny hands and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose before turning her attention to the flowers in the dirt. She pointed at them and chattered excitedly. "Flowers," Vaughn said to her in carefully pronounced English. "Can you say flowers?"  
  
As father and daughter worked on this, Francie turned back to Sydney, lightly touching her arm. "Unless you've already gotten a hotel or something, Will and I would love it if you'd stay here tonight."  
  
"Yeah, that's be great," Will put in, nodding. "We've got the extra space. Your old bedroom, in fact."  
  
"Are you sure?" Sydney questioned. "Ava can really be fussy sometimes, especially when she's tired."  
  
"So she takes after her mother?" Francie teased, ducking as Sydney took a playful swat at her.  
  
"I've missed your sense of humor," Sydney confessed before sighing deeply. "Who am I kidding?" She said. "I've missed you. We'd love to stay here."  
  
That having been decided, Vaughn handed Ava off to Sydney before he and Will went to gather the luggage from the minivan. After they were gone, Francie, Sydney and Ava went into the house. For the next several minutes, as Will and Vaughn carried in suitcases, Sydney helped Francie "baby proof" the house, moving any and all breakable or dangerous objects up to high shelves or hiding them away in cabinets. When they had finished, Vaughn took Ava to change her while Sydney and Will set about putting fresh sheets on the bed in Sydney's old bedroom.  
  
Knowing that Francie was out of earshot, busy in the kitchen mixing a fresh pitcher of lemonade, Sydney glanced up at Will as together they unfolded a fitted sheet and started to put it on the mattress.  
  
"Will," She said. "I'm really pleased about you and Francie. It surprised me, but I'm really glad."  
  
Will smiled, using his hand to smooth wrinkles from the sheet. "It surprised us, too," He confessed. "One night were making soup in the kitchen together, and we were talking about relationships, and then - boom. It just happened. We kissed. And then the rest, well, it just all fell into place." He tossed a pillowcase across the bed to Sydney. "We've been together for about a year and a half."  
  
Sydney watched Will carefully, remembering the last night she saw him, remembering things he had said as they exchanged a tearful goodbye. "So," She said quietly. "The torch has been extinguished?"  
  
Will looked up, his blue eyes shining. "No, Syd," He replied, fully aware of what she meant. "It hasn't gone out. It's just been passed."  
  
Sydney smiled brightly at that, dropping the pillow in her hands and moving around the end of the bed to pull Will into a hug. He held her tightly, grateful for her return, thankful to share these special things with her.  
  
Francie called out from the kitchen, her voice floating in to them from the hallway. "Did you find the extra set of sheets, sweetheart?"  
  
"Yeah, we're good in here," Will called back, releasing Sydney from the hug as she tried to hide a chuckle. "What?" He asked, puzzled.  
  
"I don't know if I'll ever get used to her calling you sweetheart," Sydney said, grinning.  
  
Will smiled back. "This is a good day. You should hear what she calls me on a bad day."  
  
The first pillow swat was unexpected, landing squarely on Will's head. He laughed outright and grabbed a pillow, too, whapping Sydney's back as she turned to run, giggling devilishly. The fight was on, and they were chasing each other around the room, shouting with delight, the air full of the sound of pillows finding their target. It wasn't long before the noise drew Francie into the room, and she joined the fray, grabbing an extra pillow from the closet as Sydney and Will attacked her from behind.  
  
Hearing the noise from the next room, Vaughn quickly finished diapering Ava and scooped her up into his arms before walking down the hall to peer into the bedroom where an all-out pillow war was on. Ava took in the sight with wide eyes before giggling and calling out in French.  
  
Hearing her daughter's voice, Sydney dropped to the floor in a fit of laughter as Vaughn leaned in the doorway, grinning.  
  
"That's right, Ava," He said. "They sure are silly."  
  
As Vaughn watched Sydney try to defend herself against the tag-team attack of her two best friends, it was clear to him then, for the first time, all that she had sacrificed to be with him. He turned away, hugging Ava tight as his heart overflowed with love for his wife, her screams and laughter echoing behind him.  
  
The white, windowless van moved expertly through the noontime traffic on the streets of Los Angeles. In the back, Vaughn and Sydney leaned forward to see through the windshield, curiosity causing them to nearly slip off the front of their seats. Between them, Ava rode soundlessly in her car seat, chewing on a graham cracker, her eyes darting around the inside of the dark van.  
  
In the passenger seat, in a dark blue suit and striped tie, Eric Weiss looked back over his shoulder, his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.  
  
"We're almost there," He smiled. "How's she doing?" He nodded toward Ava, who looked back at him like she'd never seen sunglasses before, her eyes wide and curious.  
  
"She's good," Vaughn answered, smiling down at his daughter. "I think that graham cracker is doing the trick."  
  
"She actually likes car rides," Sydney explained, reaching down to smooth Ava's curls back from her face. "We didn't have a car in France. It's a new experience, and she's fascinated by it."  
  
"That's cool, Ava," Weiss reached back to shake one of her hands. "I'm fascinated by it, too."  
  
The van started to slow as the driver, a CIA courier, made a series of turns and finally ended up in what appeared to be a service tunnel leading underneath a freeway overpass. At the end of the tunnel, where there seemed to be nothing but a brick wall, the driver stopped and picked up a hand- held walkie-talkie.  
  
"Delivery Boy requesting entry."  
  
There was a crackle, then static before a voice sounded back. "Delivery Boy, security scan complete. Proceed with entry."  
  
Vaughn and Sydney glanced at each other, exchanging tight smiles as the brick wall before the van lifted like a garage door and the van continued on. After another series of turns, they drove down a short ramp and entered the CIA operations center parking garage. The driver pulled the van to a stop near a pair of elevators and turned to Agent Weiss.  
  
"It's all yours from here."  
  
"Thanks, man," Weiss clapped a hand to his shoulder before turning to Sydney and Vaughn in the backseat. "Let's go, kids. You, too, Ava," He grinned and climbed out of the car. After sliding open the rear van door, Weiss helped Sydney climb out and then waited while Vaughn removed Ava from her car seat and lifted her into Sydney's arms. Once Vaughn exited the vehicle, Weiss closed the door and the van continued on, leaving the garage the same way it had come in.  
  
Waiting for the elevator, Ava in her arms, Sydney turned to Weiss with an expression of concern.  
  
"Weiss," She said, patting Ava's back as the child stirred, restless. "Are you sure we're not getting you into any trouble?"  
  
"No, not at all," Weiss waved away her question, shaking his head. "I had to pull a couple of strings, but really, it's fine." He smiled at her then, a genuine show of pleasure. "It's good to see you guys," He said. "Really good."  
  
Vaughn reached over and nudged Weiss's arm with his fist, grinning broadly.  
  
"We missed you, too," He said before he suddenly sobered, his smile fading. "We want to thank you-"  
  
"Stop," Weiss interrupted. "I'm not letting you do that, especially since I know you would've done the same for me." As the elevator doors opened, he reached in to hold them with his hand while stepping aside to let Sydney and Vaughn pass.  
  
"Even so," Sydney said quietly. "Thank you, Eric."  
  
Weiss looked away from them, pressing the button inside the elevator, watching the doors close. He was uncomfortable with praise and he could sense it in their gratitude, wrapped up in the center of Sydney's warm show of appreciation. Weiss cleared his throat, pushing the thoughts from his head. He had helped them because they were his friends. In his opinion, accepting credit for that was wrong.  
  
When they reached the ground level, the elevator doors opened and the small group walked out into the main corridor that led to the ops center. Sydney's heart began to pound as they continued on, the familiar sights and smells nearly overwhelming her. In her arms, Ava was silent, her eyes wide as she craned her neck to look up at the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling.  
  
They soon entered the heart of the ops center, the central room where agents worked at computer terminals as phones rang and fax machines beeped and whirred. Many of the agents didn't pay attention to the new arrivals, their eyes steady on their work. Across the room, however, one agent stood slowly as he watched the small group move to the center of the room.  
  
Sydney had just handed a squirming Ava to Vaughn when she looked up to see a familiar face approach. It took her a moment, but Sydney finally placed him and her face broke into a wide smile.  
  
"Agent Gelman!" She greeted him warmly, ignoring his outstretched hand and pulling him straight into a hug. When they parted, Vaughn shook his hand and quickly introduced him to their daughter.  
  
"It's good to see you," Gelman told them. "I never got the chance to properly thank you for helping me after what happened in London."  
  
Sydney couldn't stop the tears that sprang to her eyes as she recalled the incident at Heathrow that had been the catalyst for her departure two and a half years ago. Confronted with it for the first time, she turned away from the group, covering her mouth with her hand. It was clear to her then that even with all that she was feeling, being back in LA, it was really only the tip of the iceberg of her emotions.  
  
Vaughn gave her a sympathetic smile before turning back to Gelman. "There's no need to thank us, Gelman. It never would've happened it we-"  
  
"You saved my life," Gelman interrupted pointedly. "That's all I remember about that day."  
  
Vaughn dropped his head, gazing down at the floor, unable to find words. He was moved that Gelman was expressing gratitude when he had every right to express anger instead.   
  
"It's good to see you," Vaughn finally managed, meeting Gelman's eyes. Gelman just smiled and shook Vaughn's hand again before wishing them well and returning to his desk. Vaughn reached out to Sydney then, sliding his arm around her waist and squeezing her against him as she finally got her emotions under control.  
  
"Would you like to say hello to another old friend?" A deep voice said behind them, causing them to turn around.  
  
"Dixon," Sydney made no attempt to hold back her tears then, inwardly declaring it a lost cause. She hesitated, watching Dixon's eyes. He regarded her cautiously before finally taking a step forward, his arms outstretched.  
  
Vaughn squeezed Ava tight as he watched his wife collapse in Dixon's embrace, her tears coming fast, a sob escaping her lips. Dixon slowly rubbed her back, soothing her as she cried.  
  
"I'm sorry, Dixon. I'm so sorry," She said, finally pulling back from him. She wiped her eyes with her fingers, sweeping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. "About Madrid, about lying to you, about everything."  
  
"I'm sorry, too," Dixon said, resting a hand on Sydney's shoulder. He shook his head, a bad memory clouding his mind. "I'm still haunted by what I did that day, holding a gun on you."  
  
"You did what you had to," Sydney assured him.  
  
"So did you," Dixon nodded, gazing past Sydney at her husband and child. Sydney smiled, grabbing Dixon by the elbow and leading him to her family.  
  
After a quick round of introductions, Vaughn firmly shook Dixon's hand. "Great work," Vaughn said. "Weiss detailed for us the take-down of SD-6 and the Alliance. He told us your work was instrumental in leading to the destruction of the world-wide SD cells."  
  
Dixon smiled, humbled by Vaughn's kind words of praise. "I was only following the lead of the person who did the work before me," He nodded towards Sydney, and she just smiled, her cheeks warm.  
  
"Hey, Syd," Weiss said suddenly, piping up behind them. When she turned, he pointed across the room to a desk covered in stacks of papers, technical manuals and various parts and pieces of gadgets and electronic equipment. In the midst of it all, an agent was bent over a computer circuit board, concentrating deeply.  
  
Sydney and Vaughn exchanged knowing looks as Dixon chuckled. "You've got to go say hello to him," He said. "It'll be a moment he'll never forget."  
  
Sydney broke away from the group and made her way across the room. Silently, she snuck up behind the desk and leaned way over the agent's back until her lips were next to his ear.  
  
"Whatcha workin' on, Marshall?"  
  
"Oh my god!" The tools flew from Marshall's hands as he sprang backwards, nearly knocking Sydney over as he swiveled his chair around. When his eyes met her face, he froze, his mouth hanging open. "Oh my god," was all he could say, followed closely by, "Wow!"  
  
"Hi," Sydney raised her hand and waved. "How are you, Marshall?"  
  
"How am I? You're here, somewhere you haven't been for a long time, right here in front of me, and you're asking how I am? Wow. How are you? Really, Sydney, how are you?" Marshall slowly got to his feet, still awash in disbelief. "I didn't know you were coming back. I mean, I hoped you would, and I asked about you a few times, and after I found out the truth and started working here, a month ago, by the way, a month ago today, in fact, I really hoped I'd see you again, but - wow. Just, really, wow."  
  
Sydney couldn't help but laugh as she pulled Marshall into a hug. He was amazed by this and melted into her arms slowly, his eyes even wider than before.  
  
"It's good to see you," Sydney said, smiling again as they parted. "How are you adjusting to your new job?"  
  
"It's really great," Marshall nodded enthusiastically. "The facilities are so much better. And I have access to the coolest stuff, really. Here, let me show you-"  
  
"Marshall," Dixon appeared at Sydney's side, taking her gently by the elbow. "I'll bring her back around later, all right?"  
  
Marshall was disappointed, his face falling. "Oh," He said quietly. "Oh, sure, Dixon, yeah, that'd be great. I'll be right here, working away. Just right over here."  
  
Sydney cast him a sympathetic smile as she followed Dixon back across the room. Vaughn and Weiss were joking around together, Vaughn's hand locked securely around Ava's. She was on the floor, pulling against him in an effort to get free, whining quietly when her attempts proved unsuccessful.   
  
Sydney joined them and scooped Ava up into her arms, supporting her on one hip as she turned towards her husband. "Marshall was glad to see me," She said as Dixon laughed outright, quickly joined by Weiss.  
  
"That's the understatement of the year, I'm sure," Weiss shook his head. "It's a good thing Kendall had already retired before Marshall started working here. Kendall would have probably taken his head off."  
  
Everyone in the group chuckled at this, even Ava, wanting to join in the fun. Sydney shifted her from one hip to the next as she took the diaper bag from Vaughn and dug inside it for another graham cracker.  
  
"Speaking of Kendall," She said, handing the treasure to Ava, her little eyes lighting up. "Have they named his successor yet? It seems like it's taking forever. Kendall has been retired for six months."  
  
"There was an interim guy," Weiss replied after glancing briefly at Dixon. "But he came on the scene before the SD-6 take-down, and the pressure proved to be too much. Since the take-down, after a big campaign by Devlin, Kendall's permanent replacement was finally chosen just two weeks ago."  
  
"If you'll follow me," Dixon stepped in, motioning to Sydney and Vaughn. "I'll introduce you to him."  
  
Vaughn and Sydney looked at each other and shrugged. It all seemed so official, the introduction, the way Dixon escorted them across the room and into a short corridor just outside the door that led to the office previously occupied by Kendall. As she stood there, waiting, Sydney was struck by a sense of deja vu, her mind slipping back to the day so long ago when she had confronted Kendall. She was struck by the memory, wondering suddenly if she had ever apologized.  
  
Three of the office walls were glass, and the person within had chosen to pull the vertical blinds for privacy. Dixon went up to the door and knocked lightly before turning back to Sydney and Vaughn.  
  
Weiss stood behind them, his hands clasped as he rocked back on his heels, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Dixon was smiling, as well, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.  
  
"Sydney, Michael," Dixon nodded at each of them. "It's my pleasure to introduce to you," He paused, turning towards the office door as it opened. "The new Assistant Director, Head of Special Operations, Jack Bristow."  
  
Sydney let out a shocked gasp as her father walked through the door and stepped into the corridor, smiling. After handing Ava to Vaughn, Sydney went to him and they hugged, embracing tightly.  
  
"You didn't tell me, Dad," Sydney said accusingly. "We spoke on the phone not too long ago and you didn't mention it."  
  
Jack pulled back from his daughter. "It didn't become official until yesterday," He explained, looking into her dark eyes. "And I knew you'd be here within a month. This way I was able to see your reaction."  
  
Sydney grinned. "I hope it was worth it," She said.  
  
"It's always worth it when I get to see your face," Jack affectionately squeezed her arm.  
  
"I'm gonna cry, really," Weiss teased, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbing at his eyes. "This is too much, you guys. It's just too much."  
  
"Some things never change," Vaughn groaned. Leaning close to Ava's ear, he whispered something to her, his eyes on Weiss's questioning face. Ava pulled back to look at her father, hesitating only a moment before turning to Weiss with a giggle, her eyes bright.  
  
The sentence she spoke in perfect French instantly sent everyone but Weiss into a gale of laughter. Even Jack let loose, a guffaw escaping before he had the sense to quiet it, remembering the room full of CIA agents no more than three feet away.  
  
Weiss looked at each of them in turn, his eyes wide. "What?" He demanded. "C'mon, guys, that's not fair. French is like the one language that I don't know. What did she say?"  
  
Instead of an answer, he was only met with more laughter when Ava suddenly reached out and grabbed both of Weiss's lips in one of her pudgy hands. With the other, she lifted a finger to her mouth and forcefully admonished, "Shhhhh!"  
  
A few minutes later, after everyone had calmed down, Weiss and Dixon went back to their desks, leaving Sydney and Vaughn to spend time with Jack. They sat in his office and talked while Ava played on the floor, crawling around underneath Jack's large mahogany desk.  
  
Jack watched her, smiling to himself as Sydney and Vaughn discussed their flight, the reunion with Will and Francie, and their tentative plans for the future.  
  
"Have you decided to stay?" Jack asked, reaching under the desk to pull Ava into his arms. She didn't fight him, choosing instead to snuggle against him, laying her head on his shoulder. Jack gently stroked her back, her silken curls soft against his cheek. He looked like a man utterly smitten, and Sydney couldn't tear her eyes away.  
  
"Yes," She said softly, sliding her hand into Vaughn's as he reached out to her. There was no other answer she could give, seeing her daughter and her father together. It would be wrong to separate them, to keep Jack from being a part of Ava's life, and she a part of his. Sydney remembered her father's advice and knew she had to give Ava the one thing she herself had not had: the opportunity to grow up knowing Jack Bristow.  
  
As if he could read Sydney's thoughts, Jack raised his eyes and communicated gratitude through his smile. He held Ava closer, feeling her back rise and fall with each breath she took, her hands gripping the fabric of Jack's suit coat. Jack rested his chin against the top of her head and looked up again at Sydney and Vaughn, taking a deep breath before he spoke.  
  
"Your mother has been asking about Ava," He said quietly. He phrased it carefully, but Sydney knew what he meant. Vaughn did, too, and he looked away, his eyes darting around the room as his pulse raced. He had known this would come up and he had tried to prepare himself for it, but the dilemma raging inside his head was not easily diffused.  
  
Vaughn felt Sydney squeeze his hand, but he did not acknowledge her as he stared hard at the floor, trying to make sense of his feelings. How could he explain to Sydney the thoughts he did not understand himself? Ava had one grandfather but not the other because of the actions of one of her grandmothers. It sounded like the plot of a bad made-for-TV movie or a word problem encountered in a perverted math textbook.  
  
Finally turning to look into Sydney's eyes, Vaughn felt his resolve give way to reason. How could he have asked her to sacrifice so much over the past two years and not be willing to sacrifice, as well? It might have felt good to deny Irina Derevko access to her granddaughter, but it wouldn't change the past. The only thing it would change is the way Sydney viewed him, as a man who chose to hurt her and deny their daughter a chance to understand the legacy with which she was entrusted.  
  
His thoughts finally clear, Vaughn spoke up, his eyes never leaving Sydney's face.  
  
"We should take Ava to her."  
  
Sydney drew in a sharp breath, holding back tears. She reached up to touch Vaughn's face before leaning in to kiss him, their lips brushing lightly as Jack busied himself with Ava, rising up from the leather desk chair with her in his arms.  
  
Silently, Sydney and Vaughn followed as Jack led the way out of his office and across the busy ops center. As they neared the guarded doorway that led to Irina's cell, Jack turned and handed Ava to Sydney. Meeting her eyes, he lightly touched her arm before backing away and nodding to the security agent at the door.  
  
As they passed into the corridor, Sydney heard Vaughn take in a deep breath as the metal gates began to rise. She glanced up at him once before putting Ava down, holding her hand. The child took a few tentative steps beside her mother, watching the dark tile beneath her feet, uncertain of her surroundings. Growing more steady and sure of herself, she pulled ahead, straining against Sydney's grasp.  
  
She let go of Ava's hand as the last gate thudded into place in the ceiling above their heads. Sydney and Vaughn then stood back, holding hands and watching as their daughter, the life they had created, toddled on ahead.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * fini * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
A/N: Well, this is it. I'm a little sad the journey has come to an end, but I hope it was worth the trip.  
  
Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed or is about to review as soon as you're done reading this (please?!) - your kind words have been a genuine encouragement to me and I appreciate every and all opinions. You all rock - especially the rabid Alias fans who may have let me get away with a stray detail or two.  
  
One more thing before I return to waiting for the next plot bunny attack: I believe that one of the many things that make Alias such a great show is the music. I enjoy the "mood music" almost as much as the story and dialogue. Because of that, I like to have music play a large part of my creative process. Long story short: I'm a bit of a geek, and that has led me to actually put together a soundtrack for this story. It's a bunch of songs that I used to put me in the writing mood and help me keep the tone and pace of the story. For all those who have just read that and now think that I am crazy, you can stop reading now. For the rest of you who might be slightly intrigued, I invite you to come along and be a geek with me: email me (my address is in my profile) and I'll forward you my "A Thousand Oceans" soundtrack list.  
  
Enough of me - thanks again for reading. 


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